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OH/vI • W* l^ELb (OMFANY- 

• 14 S- 16 VESEY STREET- 



Misses’ and Children’s Fall and Winter Wear. 


L 

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O 

X 


Owing to the great success during the past 
season of their Knitted Tuxedo Summer Suit, 
Messrs. Jas. McCreery & Co. have been led to pro- 
duce a Knitted Fall and Winter Suit for Misses and 
Children, adapted for school and out-door wear. 

This suit is made in one piece; the waist is tight- 
fitting, with a full front of jacket effect, and the 
skirt is made full, with a sash. 

The colors are the soft, warm winter Shades, 
relieved here and there with stripes of contrasting' 
color. A full descriptive circular mailed on appli- 
cation. 



Controlled exclusively and for sale only hy 


JAMES McCREERY & CO., BROADWAY & IIth STREET. 


’S 

Tlefoier ofHealliis! 

For PILES, BURNS, NEU- 
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Used Internally and Externally. 

POND’S EXTRACT CO., 
76 5th Ave., New York. 


Permanently Removed hy 

DR. WEST’S HAIR REMOVER. 

An English Toilet Preparation, largely used by ladies in 
Europe. Guaranteed liarmless to the skill ; leaves it 
soft, white and smooth ; never fails to remove the 
Iiair; the only toilet preparation that a lady can use 
with ]>erfect safety. Price $1.00 per bottle. Sent 
by mail, in plain wrappers, to any address, on receipt 
of price, by 

AMERICAN DRUG GO., BOSTON, MASS. 


HAIR 

ON THE 

FACE, 

NECK, 

ARMS, 




EXTRACT. 

CAUTION.— See that 
tlie words “PONO’S 
EXTRACT” are 
blown In each bottle, 
Inclosed in a bufiT-col- 
ored wrapper, bear- 
ing our landscape 
trade-mar k— none 
other is genuine. 

SoM, everywhere. 
Price, 50c., SI, Si. 75. 
POND’S EXTRACT CO., 
76 5th Ave., New York. 


LOVELL LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


1 


HARDMAN, PECK & CO. 

Warerooms, 138 Fifth Ave., 2f. Y. 

MANUFACTURERS OF 

35,000 THE IN USE. 

HARDMAN 

PIA 



WITH JUST PRIDE 

WE CLAIM that it is the only Piano in the world/ 
which has an iron key frame support. 

WE CLAIM that it is the only Piano in the world 

with a patent harp-stop attacliment. 

WE CLAIM that it is the only first-class Piano 

sold at an honest price. 

WE CLAIM that for purity of tone and phenomen- 
al durability it cannot be excelled. 

WE CLAIM that it is the only Piano which im- 
proves after two or three years’ use, 
and retains its full power and tone. 


2 


LOVELL LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


POND’S 

TlefoMeroIHealM! 

For PILES, BURNS, NEU- 
BALaiA, BIARRHCEA, 
STINGS, SORE THROAT, 
EYES, FEET, INFLAM- 
MATIONS AND HEMOR- 
RHAGES OF ALL KINDS. 

Used Internally and Externally. 

POND’S EXTRACT CO., 
76 5th Ave., New York. 



EXTRACT. 

CAUT'IO.N,— See tliat 
the words “POINil’S 
EXTKAC'l’” are 
blown ill eaeb bottle, 
inclosed in a bulT-col* 
ored wrapper, bear- 
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t r a d e - in a r k. — none 
other is genuine. 

Sold every whei'e. 

Price, 50c., JS!l, JSI.75. 
POND’S EXTRACT CO., 

76 5th Ave., New York. 



New and Popular Novels. 


MONA’S CHOICE. By Mbs. Alex- 
ander. 1 vol., i2mo, paper 20c. 

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Smart. 1 vol., 12mo, paper 20c. 

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JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Publishers, 

14 and 16 Vesey St., New York. 




LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


COMPLETE CATALOGUE BY AUTHORS. 

LovEix’s liiBEARY now Contains the complete writings of most of the best standard 
authors, such as Dickens, Thackeray, Eliot, Carlyle, Ruskin, Scott, Lytton, Black, etc., 
cto* 

*£ach number is issued in neat 12mo form, and the type will be found larger, and the 
paper better, than in any other cheap series published. 

JOHN W. I 1 OVEL 1 I 4 COMPANY, 

P. O. Box 1992. 14 and 16 Vesey Street, New York, ] 


BY AUTHOE OF “ ADDIE’S HUS- 


BAND ” 

1106 Jessie 20 

BY 6. M. ADAM AND A. £. 
WETHERALD 

846 An Algonquin Maiden 20 

BY MAX ADELEE 

295 Random Shots 20 

325 Elbow Room 20 

BY GUSTAVE AIMARD 

560 The Adventurers 10 

567 The Trail-Hunter 10 

573 Pearl of the Andes 10 

1011 Pirates of the Prairies 10 

1021 The Trapper’s Daughter 10 

1032 The Tiger Slayer 10 

1045 Trappers of Arkansas 10 

1052 Border Rifles 10 

1063 The Freebooters 10 

1069 The White Scalper 10 

1071 Guide of the Desert 10 

1075 The Insurgent Chief 10 

1079 The Flying Horseman 10 

1081 Last of the Ancas 10 

1086 Missouri Outlaws 10 

1089 Prairie Flower 10 

1098 Indian Scout 10 

1101 Stronghand 10 

1103 Bee Hunters 10 

1107 Stoneheart 10 

1112 Queen of the Savannah 10 

1115 The Buccaneer Chief 10 

1118 The Smuggler Hero 10 

1121 The Rebel Chief 10 

BY MRS. ALDERDICE 

346 An Interesting Case 20 

BY MRS. ALEXANDER 

62 The Wooing O’t, 2 Parts, each 15 

99 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

209 The Executor 20 

349 Valerie’s Fate 10 

664 At Bay 10 

746 Beaton’s Bargain 20 

777 A Second Life 20 

799 Maid. Wife, or Widow 10 

840 By Woman’s Wit 20 

995 Which Shall it Be? 20 

1044 Forging the Fetters 10 

1105 Mona’s Choice 20 


BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


419 Fairy Tales 20 

BY F. ANSTEY 

30 Vice Vers5; or, A Lesson to Fathers. .20 

394 The Giant’s Robe 20 

453 Black Poodle, and Other Tales 20 

616 The Tinted Venus 15 

7,55 A Fallen Idol 20 

BY EDWIN ARNOLD 

436 The Light of Asia 20 

455 Pearls of the Faith 15 

472 Indian Song of Songs 10 

BY T. S. ARTHUR 

496 Woman’s Trials 20 

507 The Two Wives 15 

518 Married Life 16 

5^18 The Ways of Providence 15 

545 Horae Scenes 15 

554 Stories for Parents 16 

663 Seed-Time and Harvest 15 

668 Words for the Wise 15 

574 Stories for Young Housekeepers 15 

579 Lessons in Life 15 

582 Off-Hand Sketches .16 

585 Tried and Tempted 16 

BY EDWARD AVELING 

1066 An American Journey 30 

BY W. E. AYTOUN 

351 Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers 20 

BY ADAM BADEAU 

756 Conspiracy 25 

BY SIR SAMUEL BAKER 

206 Cast up by the Sea 20 

227 Rifle and Hound in Ceylon 20 

233 Eight Years’ Wandering in Ce 3 ’lon. . 20 

BY C W. BALESTIER 

381 A Pair Device 20 

405 Life of J. G. Blaine 20 

BY R. M. BALLANTYNE 

215 The Red Eric 20 

226 The Fire Brigade 20 

239 Erling the Bold 20 

241 Deep Down 20 

BY S. BARING-GOULD 

875 Little Tu’penny 10 

' 1061 Red Spider 20 


1 


Lovell’s library. 


BY FRANK BARRETT 

1009 The Great Hesper 20 


BY GEOROE MIDDLETON BAYNE 


460 Galaski 20 

BY AUGUST BEBEL 

712 Woman 80 

BY MRS. E. BEDELL BENJAMIN 

748 Oiir Eoman Palace 20 

1077 Jim, the Parson 20 

BY A. BENRIMO 

470 Vic 16 

BY E. BERGER 

901 Charles Auchoster 20 

BY W. BERGSOE 

77 Pillone 15 

BY E. BERTHET 

366 The Sergeant's Legacy 20 

BY WALTER BESANT 

18 They Were Married 10 

103 Let Nothing You Dismay 10 

257 All in a Garden Fair 20 

268 When the Ship Comes Home 10 

384 Dorothy Forster 20 

699 Self or Bearer 10 

842 The World Went Very Well Then . .20 

847 The Holy Rose 10 

1002 To Call Her Mine 20 

1109 Katharine Regina 20 

BY BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 

3 The Happy Boy 10 

4 Ame 10 


BY WILLIAM BLACK 


40 

48 

82 

85 

93 

136 

142 

146 

153 

178 

180 

182 

184 

188 

213 

216 

217 

218 
225 
2;i2 
456 
584 
678 
958 


105 

697 


An Adventure in Thule, etc 10 

A Princess of Thule 20 

A Daughter of Heth 20 

Shandon Bells 20 

Macleod of Dare 20 

Yolande ^ 

Strange Adventures of a Photon.. .20 

White Wings 20 

Sunrise, 2 Parts, each 15 

Madcap Violet 20 

Kilmeny 20 

That Beautiful Wretch 20 

Green Pastures, etc 20 

In Silk Attire 20 

The Three Feathers 20 

Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

The Four MacNicols 10 

Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P 10 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 

Monarch of Mincing Lane 20 

J ud ith Sh n kespeare 

Wise Women of Inverness 10 

White Heather 20 

Sabina Zembra 20 


BY LILLIE D. BLAKE 


Woman’s Place To-day 20 

Fettered for Life 25 


BY KEMPER BOCOCK 


1078 Tax the Area. 


20 


BY R. D. BLACKMORE 


851 Lorna Doone, Part 1 20 

861 Lorna Doone, Part II 20 

936 Maid of Sker 20 

955 Cradock Nowell, Part 1 20 

9.55 Cradock Nowell, Part II 20 

961 Springhaven 20 

1034 Mary Anerley 20 

1035 Alice Lorraine 20 

1036 Cristowell 20 

1037 Clara Vaughan 20 

1038 Cripps the Carrier 20 

1039 Remarkable History of Sir Thos. 

Upmore 20 

1040 Erema; or. My Father’s Sin 20 

BY RHODA BROUGHTON 

23 Second Thoughts 20 

230 Belinda 20 

781 Betty’s Visions 15 

841 Dr. Cupid 2(* 

1022 Good-Bye, Sweetheart 20 

1023 Red as a Rose is She 20 

1024 Cometh up as a Flower 20 

1025 Not Wisely but too Well 20 

1026 Nancy 20 

1027 Joan ^ 

BY ANNIE BRADSHAW 

716 A Crimson Stain 20 

BY CHARLOTTE BREMER 

448 Life of Fredrika Bremer 20 

BY CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

74 Jane Eyre ' 20 

897 Shirley 20 

BY MISS M. E. BRADDON 

88 The Golden Calt 2C 

104 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

214 Phantom Fortune 20 

266 Under the Red Flag 10 

444 An Ishmaelite 20 

555 Aurora Floyd 20 

588 To the BittW End 20 

596 Dead Sea Frnit 2C 

698 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

766 Vixen 20 

783 The Octoroon 20 

814 Mohawks. 20 

868 One Thing Needful 20 

869 Barbara ; or. Splendid Misery 20 

870 John Marchmont’s Legacy 20 

871 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

872 Taken at the Flood 20 

873 Asphodel 20 

877 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

878 Only a Clod 20 

879 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

880 Lady’s Mile 20 

881 Birds of Prey 20 

882 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

883 Rupert God win 20 

886 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

887 A Strange World 20 

888 Mount Royal 20 

889 Just As I Am 20 

890 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

892 Hostages to Fortune ,20 

893 Fenton’s Quest 20 

894 The Cloven Foot 20 


2 


LOVELL’S LIBKARY 


BY ELIZABETH BARRETT 


BROWNING 

421 Aurora Leigh 20 

47'9 Poems 35 

BY ROBERT BROWNING 

652 Selections from Poetical Works 20 

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

443 Poems 20 

BY ROBERT BUCHANAN 

318 The New Abelard 20 

098 The Master of the Mine 10 

BY JOHN BUNYAN 

200 The Pilgrim’s Progress 20 

BY ROBERT BURNS 

430 Poems 20 

BY REV. JAS. S. BUSH 

113 More Words about the Bible 20 

BY E. LASSETER BYNNER 

100 Nimport, 2 Parts, each 15 

102 Tritons, 2 Parts, each 15 

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL 

526 Poems 20 

BY LEWIS CARROLL 

480 Alice’s Adventures 20 

481 Through the Looking-Glass 20 

BY THOMAS CARLYLE 

486 History of French Bevolution, 2 

Parts, each 25 

494 Past and Present 20 

• 500 The Diamond Necklace ; and Mira- 

beau 20 

503 Chartism 20 

5- 18 Sartor Resartus 20 

514 Early Kings of Norway 20 

520 Jtan Paul Friedrich Richter 10 

522 Goethe, and Miscellaneous Essays. . . lU 

525 Life of Heyne 15 

528 Voltaire and Novalis 15 

641 Heroes, and Hero-Worship 20 

546 Signs of the Times 15 

550 German Literature 15 

581 Portraits of John Knox 15 

571 Count Cagliostro, etc 15 

678 Frederick the Great, Vol. I 20 

680 “ « “ Vol. II 20 

691 “ “ “ Vol. Ill 20 

610 “ ‘‘ “ Vol. IV 20 

619 “ “ “ Vol. V 20 

622 “ “ “ Vol. VI 20 

626 “ “ “ Vol. VII 20 

628 “ “ “ Vol. VIII 20 

6- 30 Life of John Sterling 20 

633 Latter-Day Pamphlets. 20 

6-38 Life of Schiller 20 

613 Oliver Cromwell, Vol. 1 26 

646 “ “ Vol. II 25 

649 “ “ Vol. Ill 26 

652 Characteristics and other Essays. . . 15 
656 Corn Law Rhymes and other Essays. 15 
658 Baillie the Covenanter and other Es- 
says 15 

661 Dr. Francia and other Essays 15 

1088 Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, 

2 oHch 20 

1090 Wilhelm Meister’s Travels 20 


BY ROSA NOUCHETE CAREY 


660 For Lilias 20 

911 Not Like other Girls 20 

912 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

959 Wee Wide 20 

960 Wooed and Married 20 

BY WM. CARLETON 

190 Willy Reilly 20 

820 Shane Fadh’s Wedding 10 

821 Larry McFarland’s Wake 10 

822 The Party Fight and Funeral 10 

823 The Midnight Mass 10 

824 Phil Purcel 10 

825 An Irish Oath 10 

826 Going to Maynooth 10 

827 Phelim O’Toole’s Courtship 10 

828 Dominick, the Poor Scholar 10 

829 Neal Malone 10 

BY “CAVENDISH” 

422 Cavendish Card Essays .15 

BY CERVANTES 

417 Don Quixote 30 

BY L. W. CHAMPNEY 

119 Bourbon Lilies 20 

BY VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 

242 Samuel Brohl &, Co 20 

BY REV. JAS. FREEMAN CLARK 

167 Anti- Slavery Days 20 

BY CRISTABEL R. COLERIDGE 

1028 A Near Relation 20 

BY S. T. COLERIDGE 

523 Poems 30 

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER 

6 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

.53 The Spy 20 

385 The Pathfinder 20 

378 Homeward Bound 20 

441 Home as Pound 20 

463 The Deerslayer SO 

467 The Prairie 20 

471 The Pioneer 25 

484 The Two Admirals 20 

488 The Water- Witch 20 

491 The Red Rover 20 

601 The Pilot 20 

506 Wing and Wing 20 

512 Wyandotte 20 

517 Heidenmauer 20 

51 9 The Headsman 20 

524 The Bravo 20 

527 Lionel Lincoln 20 

52.) Wept of Wish-ton-Wish 20 

532 Afloat and Ashore 20 

539 Miles Wallingford 20 

543 The Monikins 20 

548 Mercedes of Castile 20 

553 The Sea Lions 20 

559 The Crater 20 

.562 Oak Openings 20 

570 Satanstoe 20 

576 The Chain-Bearer 20 

587 Ways of the Hour 20 

601 Precauti on 20 

603 Redskins 25 

611 Jack Tier 20 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BY BERTHA M. CLAY 

183 Her Mother’s Sin 

277 Dora Thorne 

287 Beyond Pardon 

420 A Broken Wedding-Ring 

423 Repented at Leisure 

458 Sunshine and Roses 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 

474 A Woman’s Temptation 

476 Love Works Wonders 

658 Fair but False 

593 Between Two Sins 

651 At War with Herself 

669 Hilda 

659 Her Martyrdom 

692 Lord Lynn’s Choice 

694 The Shadow of a Sin 

695 Wedded and Parted 

700 In Cupid’s Net 

701 Lady Darner’s Secret 

718 A Gilded Sin 

720 Between Two Loves 

727 For Another’s Sin 

730 Romance of a Young Girl 

73.3 A Queen Amongst Women 

7.38 A Golden Dawn 

739 Like no Other Love 

740 A Bitter Atonement 

744 Evelyn’s Folly 

7.52 Set in Diamonds 

764 A Fair Mystery 

8t)0 Thorns and Orange Blossoms 

801 Romance of a Black Veil 

803 Love's Warfare 

804 Madolin’s Lover 

806 From Out the Gloom 

807 Wtiich Loved Him Best 

808 A True Magdalen 

809 The Sin of a Lifetime 

810 Prince Charlie’s Daughter 

811 A Golden Heart 

812 Wife in Name Only 

815 A Woman’s Error 

896 Mar j one 

922 A Wilful Maid 

92-3 Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce 

926 Claribel’s Love Story 

928 Thrown on the World 

929 Under a Shadow 

930 A Struggle for a Ring 

932 Hilary’s Folly 

93^1 A Haunted Life 

9.34 A Woman’s Love Story 

9(i9 A Woman’s War 

984 'Twi-xt Smile and Tear 

985 Lady Diana’s Pride 

986 Belle of Lynn 

988 Marjorie's Fate 

989 Sweet Cymbeline 

1007 Redeemed by Love 

1012 The Squire's Darling 

1013 The Mystery of Colde Fell 

1030 On Her Wedding Morn 

1031 The Shattered idol 

10:W Letty Leigh 

1041 The Mystery of the Holly Tree 

1042 The Earl’s Error 

1043 Arnold’s Promise 

1051 An Unnatural Bondage 

1064 The Duke’s Secret 


BY WILKIE COLLINS 

8 The Moonstone, Part 1 10 

9 The Moonstone, Part li 10 

24 The New Magdalen 20 

87 Heart and Science 20 

418 “I Say No” 20 

437 Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 15 

683 The Ghost’s Touch 10 

686 My Lady’s Money 10 

722 The Evil Genius 20 

839 The Guilty River 10 

957 The Dead Secret 20 

91»6 The Queen of Hearts 20 

1003 The Haunted Hotel 10 

BY HUGH CONWAY 

429 Called Back 16 

462 Dark Days ....... 16 

612 Carriston’s Gift 10 

617 Paul Vargas : a Mystery 10 

(>31 A Family Affair 20 

667 Story of a Sculptor 10 

672 Slings and Arrows 10 

715 A Cardinal Sin. .. . 20 

745 Living or Dead 20 

750 Somebody’s Story 10 

5(68 Bound by a Spell 20 

BY C. H. W. COOK 

1099 The True Solution of the Labor 
Question 10 

BY KINAHAN CORNWALLIS 

409 Adrift with a Vengeance 25 

BY GEORGIANA M. CRAIK 

1006 A Daughter of the People 20 

BY R. CRISWELL 

350 Grandfather Lickshingle 20 

BY R. H. DANA, JR. 

464 Two Years before the Mast 20 

BY DANTE 

345 Dante’s Vision of Hell, Purgatory, 

and Paradise 20 

BY FLORA A. DARLING 

260 Mrs. Darling’s War Letters 20 

BY JOYCE DARRELL 

315 Winifred Power 20 

BY ALPHONSE DAUDET 

478 Tartarin of Tarascon 20 

604 Sidonie 20 

613 Jack 20 

615 The Little Good-for-Nothing 20 

645 The Nabob 26 

BY REV. C. H. DAVIES, D.D. 

453 Mystic London 20 

BY THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL’S 

431 Life of Spenser 10 

BY C. DEBANS 

475 A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing 20 

BY REV. C. F. DEEMS, D.D. 

704 Evolution 20 

BY DANIEL DEFOE 

428 Robinson Crusoe 25 


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LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


BY THOS. DE QUINCEY 


20 The Spanish Nun 10 

1070 Confessions of an English Opium 

Eater 20 

BY CARL DETLEF 

29 Irene; or, The Lonely Manor 20 

BY CHARLES DICKENS 

10 Oliver Twist .20 

38 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

75 Child’s History of England 20 

91 Pickwick Papers, 2 Parts, each 20 

140 The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

144 Old Curiosity Shop, 2 Parts, each. . . 16 

150 Barnaby Budge, 2 Parts, each 16 

158 David Copperfield, 2 Parts, each 20 

170 Hard Times 20 

192 Great Expectations 20 

201 Martin Chuzzlewit, 2 Parts, each. . . .20 

210 American Notes 20 

219 Dombey and Son, 2 Parts, each 20 

223 Little Dorrit, 2 Parts, each 20 

228 Our Mutual Friend, 2 Parts, each,. .20 

aSl Nicholas Nickleby, 2 Parts, each 20 

234 Pictures from Italy 16 

237 The Boy at Mugby 10 

244 Bleak House, 2 Parts, each 20 

246 Sketches of the Young Couples 10 

201 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

267 The Haunted House, etc 10 

270 The Mudfog Papers, etc 10 

273 Sketches by Boz 20 

274 A Christmas Carol, etc 15 

282 Uncommercial Traveller 20 

283 Somebody’s Luggage, etc 10 

29;j The Battle of Life, etc 10 

297 Mysterj' of Edwin Drood 20 

298 Reprinted Pieces 20 

302 N o Thoroughfare 15 

437 Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

BY PROF. DOWDEN 

404 Life of Southey 10 

BY JOHN DRYDEN 

498 Poems 30 

BY THE “DUCHESS” 

68 Portia 20 

76 Molly Bawn 20 

78 Phyllis. 20 

86 Monica 10 

90 Mrs. Geoffrey 20 

92 Airy Fairy Lilian 20 

126 Loys, Lord Beresford 20 

132 Moonshine and Marguerites 10 

162 Faith and Unfaith 20 

168 Beauty’s Daughters 20 

234 Rossmoyne 20 

451 Doris 20 

477 A Week in Killamey 10 

530 In Durance Vile 10 

618 Dick’s Sweetheart ; or, “ O Tender 

Dolores” 20 

621 A Maiden all Forlorn 10 

624 A Passive Crime 10 

721 Lady Branksmere 20 

735 A Mental Struggle 20 

737 The Haunted Chamber 10 

792 Her^eek’s Amusement 10 

802 Lady Valworth's Diamonds 20 

1065 A Modem Circe 20 

1072 The Duchess 20 


BY F. DU BOISGOBEY 

1018 The Condemned Door 20 

1080 The Blue Veil; or. The Crime of 

the Tower 20 

1120 The Matapan Affair 20 

BY LORD DUFFERIN 

95 Letter’s from High Latitudes 20 

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, JR. 

992 Camille 16 

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS 

761 Count of Monte Cristo, Part 1 20 

761 Count of Monte Cristo, Part II 20 

775 The Three Guardsmen 20 

786 Twenty Years After 20 

884 The Son of Monte Cristo, Part I 20 

884 The Son of Monte Cristo, Part II. . . 20 

885 Monte Cristo and His Wife 20 

891 Countess of Monte Cristo, Parti. ..20 
891 Countess of Monte Cristo, Part II... 20 
998 Beau Tancrede 20 

BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDS 

681 A Girton Girl 20 

BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS 

203 Disarmed 15 

663 The Flower of Doom 10 

1005 Next of Kin 20 

BY GEORGE ELIOT 

66 Adam Bede, 2 Parts, each 16 

69 Amos Barton 10 

71 Silas Marner 10 

79 Romola, 2 Parts, each 16 

149 Janet’s Repentance 10 

151 Felix Holt 20 

174 Middlemarch, 2 Parts, each 20 

195 Daniel Deronda, 2 Parts, each 20 

202 Theophrastus Such 10 

205 The Spanish Gypsy.nnd other Poems20 

207 The Mill on the Floss, 2 Parts, each.l6 

208 Brother Jacob, ex/^. 10 

374 Essays, and Leaves from a Note- 

Book 20 

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

373 Essays 20 

ENGLISH MEN OF LETTERS. 
EDITED BY JOHN MORLEY 

348 Bunyan, by J. A, Froude 10 

407 Burke, by John Morley 10 

334 Burns, by Principal Shairp 10 

347 Byron, by Profe.=sor Nichol 10 

413 Chaucer, by Prof. A. W. Ward 10 

424 Cowper, by Gold win Smith 10 

377 Defoe, by William Minto 10 

383 Gibbon, by J. C. Morrison 10 

2*26 Goldsmith, by William Black 10 

369 Hume, by Professor Huxley 10 

401 Johnson, by Leslie Stephen 10 

330 Locke, by Thomas Fowler 10 

392 Milton, by Mark Pattison 10 

398 Pope, by Leslie Stephen 10 

364 Scott, by R. H. Hutton 10 

361 Shelley, by J. Symonds 10 

404 Southey, by Professor Dow den . ...10 

431 Spenser, by the Dean of St. Paul’s. .10 

344 Thackeray, by Anthony Trollope. . .10 

410 Wordsworth, by F. Myers 10 


5 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


BT B. L. FABJEON 

943 Gautraii ; or, House of White Shad- 


ows 20 

654 Love’s Harvest 20 

874 Nine of Hearts 20 

BY HARRIET FARLEY 

473 Christmas Stories 20 

BY F. W. FARRAR, D.D. 

19 Seekers after God 20 

60 Early Days of Christianity, 2 Parts, 

each 20 

BY GEORGE MANNVILLE FENN 

1004 This Man’s Wife 20 

1060 The Bag of Diamonds 20 

BY OCTAVE FEUILLET 

41 A Marriage in High Life 20 

987 Romance of a Poor Young Man. . . . 10 

BY MRS. FORRESTER 

760 Fair Women 20 

818 Once Again 20 

843 My Lord and My Lady 20 

844 Dolores 20 

850 My Hero 20 

869 Viva 20 

860 Omnia Vanitas 10 

861 Diana Carew 20 

862 From Olympus to Hades 20 

863 Rhona 20 

864 Roy and Viola 20 

865 June 20 

866 Mignon 20 

867 A Young Man’s Fancy 20 

BY FRIEDRICH, BARON DE LA 

MOTTE FOUQUE 

711 Undine . 10 

BY THOMAS FOWLER 

880 Life of Locke 10 

BY FRANCESCA 

177 The Story of Ida 10 

BY R. E. FRANCILLON 

319 A Real Queen 20 

856 Golden Bells 10 

BY ALBERT FRANKLYN 

122 Ameline de Bourg 15 

BY L. VIRGINIA FRENCH 

485 My Rosea 20 

BY J. A. FROUDE 

348 LifeofBunyan 10 

BY EMILE GABORIAU 

114 Monsieur Lecoq, 2 Parts, each 20 

116 The Lerouge Case 20 

120 Other Feople’s Money 20 

129 In Peril of His Life 20 

138 The Gilded Clique 20 

165 Mystery of Orcival 20 

161 Promise of Marriage 10 

258 Pile No. 113 . 20 

1119 The Little Old Man of the Bati- 

gnolles 20 

1123 The Count’s Millions, Part 1 20 

“ “ “ Part II 20 


BY HENRY GEORGE 

62 Progress and Poverty 20 

390 Land Question 10 

393 Social Problems 20 

796 Property in Land 15 

BY CHARLES GIBBON 

57 The Golde u Shaft 20 

BY J. W. VON GOETHE 

842 Goethe’s Faust 20 

343 GtKJthe's Poems 20 

1088 Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship, 


1090 Wilhelm Meister's Travels 20 

BY NIKOLAI V. GOGOL 

1016 Taras Bulba 20 

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

61 Vicar of Wakefield 10 

362 Plays and Poems 20 

BY MRS. GORE • 

89 The Dean’s Daughter 20 

BY JAMES GRANT 


'St/ JL UC OCVICL 

BY HENRI GREVILLE 

1001 Prankley 20 

BY CECIL GRIFFITH 

732 Victory Deane 20 

BY ARTHUR GRIFFITHS 

709 No. 99 10 

THE BROTHERS GRIMM 

221 Fairy Tales. Illustrated 20 

BY LAURENCE GRONLUND 

1096 The Co-operative Commonwealth.. 30 

BY LIEUT. J. W. GUNNISON 

440 History of the Mormons 16 

BY F. W. HACKLANDER 

606 Forbidden Fruit 20 

BY ERNST HAECKEL 

97 India and Ceylon 20 

BY H. RIDER HAGGARD 

813 King Solomon’s Mines 20 

648 She 20 

876 The Witch’s Head 20 

900 Jess 20 

941 Dawn 20 

1020 Allan Quatermain 20 

1100 Tale of Three Lions 10 

BY A. EGMONT HAKE 

371 The Story of Chinese Gordon 20 

BY LUDOVIC HALEVY 

15 L’ Abb6 Constantin 20 

BY THOMAS HARDY 

43 Two on a Tower 20 

157 Romantic Adventures of a Milk- 
maid 10 

749 The Mayor of Casterbridge 20 

956 The Woodlanders 20 

964 Par from the Madding Crowd 20 

BY MARION HARLAND 


107 Housekeeping and Homemaking.... 15 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY, 


BY JOHN HARRISON AND M. 


COMPTON 

414 Over the Summer Sea 20 

BY J. B. HARWOOD 

269 One False, both Fair 20 

BY JOSEPH HATTON 

7 Clvtie 20 

137 Cruel London 20 

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE 

370 Twice Told Tales 20 

376 Grandfather’s Chair 20 

BY MARY CECIL HAY 

466 Under the Will 10 

566 The Arundel Motto 20 

690 Old Myddleton’s Money 20 

787 A Wicked Girl 10 

971 Nora's Love Test 20 

972 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

973 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

974 My First Offer 10 

975 Back to the Old Home 10 

976 For Her Dear Sake 20 

977 Hidden Perils 20 

978 Victor and Vanquished 20 

1029 Brenda Yorke ■ 10 

BY MRS. FELICIA HEMANS 

683 Poems 30 

BY DAVID J. HILL, LL.D. 

633 Principles and Fallacies of Social- 
ism 16 

BY M. L. HOLBROOK, M.D. 

366 Hygiene of the Brain 26 

BY MRS. M. A. HOLMES 

709 Woman against Woman 20 

743 A Woman’s V engeance 20 

BY PAXTON HOOD 

73 Life of Cromwell 16 

BY THOMAS HOOD 


BY HORRY AND WEEMS ’ 

36 Life of Marion 20 

BY ROBERT HOUDIN 

14 The Tricks of the Greeks 20 

BY ADAH M. HOWARD 

970 Against Her Will 20 

993 The;Child Wife 10 

BY MARIE HOWLAND 

634 Papa’s Own Girl 30 

BY EDWARD HOWLAND 

742 Social Solutions, Part I 10 

747 “ “ Part II .....10 

753 “ “ Part III 10 

762 “ “ Part IV 10 

765 “ “ PartV 10 

774 “ “ Part VI.. 10 

778 “ ‘ Part VII 10 

782 “ “ Part VIII 10 

785 “ Part IX 10 

788 “ “ PartX 10 

791 “ “ Part XI 10 

795 “ “ Part XII 10 


BY JOHN W. HOYT, LL.D. 

Studies in Civil Service 16 

BY THOMAS HUGHES 

Tom Brown’s School Days 20 

Tom Brown at Oxford, 2 Parts, each . 16 

BY VICTOR HUGO 

Les Miserables, Part 1 20 

“ “ Part II 20 

“ “ Partin 20 

BY STANLEY HUNTLEY 

The Spoopendyke Papers 20 

BY R. H. HUTTON 

Life of Scott 20 

BY PROF. HUXLEY 

Life of Hume 10 

BY WASHINGTON IRVING 

The Sketch Book 20 

Tales of a Traveller 20 

Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part 1 20 

Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part II 20 

Abbotsford and Newstead Abbey. . .10 
Knickerbocker History of New York.20 

The Crayon Papers 20 

The Alhambra 16 

Conquest of Granada 20 

Conquest of Spain 10 

Bracebridge Hall 20 

Salmagundi 20 

Astoria 20 

Spanish Voyages 20 

A Tour on the Prairies 10 

Life of Mahomet, 2 Parts, each .... 15 

Oliver Goldsmith 20 

Captain Bonneville 20 

Moorish Chronicles 10 

Wolfert’s Roost and Miscellanies .... 10 

BY HARRIET JAY 

The Dark Colleen 20 

BY SAMUEL JOHNSON 

Rasselas 10 

BY MAURICE JOKAI 

A Modern Midas 20 

BY JOHN KEATS 

Poems 26 

BY EDWARD KELLOGG 

Labor and Capital 20 

BY GRACE KENNEDY 

Dunallan, 2 Parts, each 16 

BY JOHN P. KENNEDY 

Horse-Shoe Robinson, 2 Parts, each. 16 

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY 

The Hermits 20 

Hypatia, 2 Parts, each 16 

BY HENRY KINGSLEY 

Austin Eliot 20 

The Hillyars and Burtons 20 

Leighton Court 20 

Geoffrey Hamlyn 30 


635 

61 

186 

784 

784 

784 

109 

364 

369 

147 

15)8 

199 

224 

236 

249 

263 

272 

279 

281 

290 

299 

301 

305 

308 

310 

311 

314 

321 

17 

44 

754 

631 

111 

106 

67 

39 

64 

726 

728 

731 

736 


7 


LOVELL^S LIBRARY. 


BY W. H. G. KINGSTON 

254 Peter the Whaler 20 

822 Mark Seaworth ^ 

824 Round the World 20 

335 The Young Foresters 20 

337 Salt Water 20 

833 The Midshipman 20 

BY F. KIRBY 

454 The Golden Dog (Te chien (Tor).. . .40 

BY A. LA POINTE 

445 The Rival Doctors 20 

BY MISS MARGARET LEE 

25 Divorce 20 

600 A Brighton Night 20 

725 Dr. Wilmer’s Love 25 

741 Lorimer and Wife 20 

BY VERNON LEE 

707 A Phantom Lover 10 

798 Prince of the Hundred Soups 10 

BY JULES LERMINA 

469 The Chase 20 

BY CHARLES LEVER 

327 Harry Lorrequer 20 

789 Charles O’M.alley, 2 Parts, each 20 

794 Tom Burke of Ours, 2 Parts, each . . 20 

BY H. W. LONGFELLOW 

1 Hyperion 20 

2 Outrc-Mer 20 

482 Poems 20 

BY SAMUEL LOVER 

163 The Happy Man 10 

719 Rory O'More 20 

849 Handy Andy 20 

BY LORD LYTTON 

11 The Coming Race 10 

12 Leila 10 

31 Ernest Maltravers 20 

32 The Haunted House 10 

45 Alice: A Sequel to Ernest Maltra- 
vers 20 

65 A Strange Story 20 

69 Last Days of Pompeii 20 

81 Zanoni 20 

84 Night and Morning, 2 Parts, each.. 15 

117 Paul Clifford. 20 

121 Lady of Lyons 10 

128 Money 10 

152 Richelieu 1C 

160 Rienzi, 2 Parts, each 15 

176 Pelham 20 

204 Eugene Aram 20 

222 The Disowned 20 

240 Kenelm Chillingly 20 

245 What Will He Do with It ? 2 Parts, 

each 20 

217 Devereux 20 

250 The Caxtons, 2 Parts, each 15 

253 Lucretia 20 

255 Last of the Barons. 2 Parts, each ... 1 5 

259 The Parisians. 2 Parts, each 20 

271 My Novel, 3 Parts, each 20 

276 Harold, 2 Parts, each 15 

^9 Godolphin 20 

2M Pilgrims of the Rhine 15 

317 Pausanias 15 


BY COMMANDER LOVETT-CAM- 
ERON. 

817 The Cruise of the Black Prince. . . .20 

BY MRS. H. LOVETT-CAMERON 


927 Pure Gold 20 

BY HENRY W. LUCY 

96 Gideon Fleyce 20 

BY HENRY C. LUKENS 

131 Jets and Flashes 20 

BY EDNA LYALL 

962 Knights-Errant 20 

BY E. LYNN LYNTON 

276 lone Stewart 20 

BY LORD MACAULAY 

333 Lays of Ancient Rome 20 

BY KATHERINE S- MACQUOID 

898 Joan Wentworth 20 

BY E. MARLITT 

771 The Old Mam’selle’s Secret 20 

1053 Gold Elsie 20 

BY CAPTAIN MARRYAT 

212 The Privateersman 20 

BY FLORENCE MARRYAT. 

903 The Master Passion 20 

904 A Lucky Disappointment 10 

905 Her Lord and Master 20 

906 My Own Child 20 

907 No Intentions 20 

908 Written in Fire 20 

909 A Little Stepson 10 

910 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

931 Why Not? 20 

937 My Sister the Actress. 20 

938 Captain Norton’s Diary 10 

939 Girls of Feversham 20 

940 The Root of all Evil 20 

912 Facing the Footlights 20 

943 Petronel 20 

944 A Star and a Heart 10 

946 Ange 20 

946 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

947 The Poison of Asps 10 

948 Fair-Haired Alda 20 

949 The Heir Presumptive. ■; 20 

950 Under the Lilies and Roses 20 

951 Heart of Jane Wnmer 20 

9.52 Love’s Conflict, Part 1 20 

952 Love’s Conflict, Part II 20 

9.53 Phyllida 20 

954 Out of His Reckoning 10 

979 Her World against a Lie 20 

990 Open Sesame 20 

991 Mad Dumaresq 20 

999 Fighting the Air 20 

BY HELEN MATHERS 

165 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

1046 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

1047 Sam’s Sweetheart 20 

1048 Story of a Sin 20 

1049 Cherry Ripe 20 

1050 My Lady Green Sleeves 20 


8 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BT HAEBIET MABTINEAU 


853 Tales of the French Revolution 15 

354 Loom and Lugger 2U 

367 Berkeley the Banker 20 

358 Homes Abroad 15 

363 For Each and For All 15 

872 HiU and Valley 15 

879 The Charmed Sea 15 

388 Life in the Wilds 15 

895 Sowers not Reapers 15 

400 Glen of the Echoes 15 

BY A. MATHEY 

46 DnkeofKandos 20 

60 The Two Duchesses 20 

BY W. S. MAYO 

70 The Berber 20 

BY J. H. McCABTHY 

115 An Outline of Irish History 10 

BY JUSTIN McCABTHY, M.P. 

278 Maid of Athens 20 

BY T. L. MEADE 

328 How It All Came Round .20 

BY OWEN MEBEDITH 

331 Lucile 20 

BY JOHN MILTON 

389 Paradise Lost 20 

1092 Poems 35 

BY WILLIAM MINTO 

377 Life of Defoe 10 

BY MBS. MOLESWOBTH 

1008 Marrying and Giving in Marriage . .10 

BY SUSANNA MOODIE 

1067 Geoffrey Moncton 30 

1068 Flora Lyndsay 20 

1074 Roughing it in the Bush 20 

1076 Life in the Backwoods 20 

1085 Life hi the Clearings 20 

BY THOMAS MOOBE 

416 LallaRookh 20 

487 Poems 40 

BY JOHN MOBLEY 

407 Life of Burke 10 

BY J. C. MOBBISON 

383 Life of Gibbon 10 

BY EDWARD H. MOTT 

139 Pike County Folks 20 

BY ALAN MUIB 

312 Golden Girls 20 

BY LOUISA MUHLBACH 

1000 Frederick the Great and his Court, .30 

1014 The Daughter of an Empress 30 

1054 Goethe and Schiller 30 

1091 Queen Hortense 30 

BY MAX MULLER 

130 India : What Can It Teach Us ? .... 20 

BY MISS MULOCK 

33 John Halifax 20 

435 Miss Tommy 15 

751 King Arthur 20 


BY DAVID CHRISTIE MURRAY 


197 By the Gate of the Sea. 15 

758 Cynic Fortune. 10 

1116 One Traveller Returns 20 

BY F. MYERS 

410 Life of Wordsworth 10 


BY FLORENCE NEELY 

564 Hand-Book for the Kitchen 20 


BY REV. R. H. NEWTON 

83 Right and Wrong Uses of the Bible. .20 

BY JOHN NICHOL 

347 Life of Byron 10 

BY JAMES R. NICHOLS, M.D. 

375 Science at Home 20 

BY W. E. NORRIS 

108 No New Thing 20 

592 That Terrible Man 10 

779 My Friend Jim 10 

BY CHRISTOPHER NORTH 

439 Noctes Ambrosian® 30 

BY F. E. M. NOTLEY 

1095 From the Other Side 20 

BY LAURENCE OLIPHANT 

196 AltioraPeto 20 

BY MRS. OLIPHANT 

124 The Ladies Lin dores 20 

179 The Little Pilgrim 10 

175 Sir Tom 20 

326 The Wizard’s Son 25 

368 Old Lady Mary 10 

602 Oliver’s Bride 10 

717 A Country Gentleman 20 

831 The Son of his Father 20 

920 John : a Love Story 20 

925 A Poor Gentleman .... 20 

994 Lucy Crofton 10 

BY MAX O’RELL 

336 John Bull and His Island 20 

459 John Bull and His Daughters 20 

BY OUIDA 

112 Wanda, 2 Parts, each 15 

127 Under Two Flhgs, 2 Parts, each.... 20 

387 Princess Napraxine 25 

675 A Rainy June 10 

763 Moths 20 

790 Othmar 20 

805 A House Party 10 

852 Friendship 20 

853 In Maremma 20 

854 Slgna 20 

855 Pascarel 20 

BY ALBERT K. OWEN 

655 Integral Co-operation 30 

BY LOUISA PARR 

42 Robin 20 

BY MARK PATTISON 

392 Life of Milton 10 

BY JAMES PAYN 

187 Thicker than Water 20 

330 The Canon’s Ward 20 

659 Luck of the Darrells 20 


9 


Lovell’s library. 


BY HENRY PETERSON 

1016 Pemberton 30 

BY F. C. PHILLIPS 

1082 Strange Adventures of Lucy Smith .20 

1083 As in a Looking Glass 20 

1084 The Dean and his Daughter 20 

1097 Jack and Three Jills 20 

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE 

403 Poems 20 

426 Narrative of A. Gordon Pym 16 

432 Gold Bug, and Other Tales 15 

438 The Assignation, and Other Tales. .15 
447 The Murders in the Rue Morgue ... .15 

BY WILLIAM POLE, F.R.S. 


406 The Theory of the Modern Scien- 
tific Game of Whist 16 


BY ALEXANDER POPE 

891 Homer’s Odyssey 20 

396 Homer’s Iliad 30 

467 Poems ... 30 

BY JANE PORTER 

189 Scottish Chiefs, Part 1 20 

Scottish Chiefs, Part II ^ 

382 Thaddeus of Warsaw 25 

BY C. F. POST AND FRED. C. 
LEUBUGHER 

838 The George-Hewitt Campaign 20 

BY ADELAIDE A. PROCTER 

339 Poems 20 

BY AGNES RAY 

1010 Mrs. Gregory 20 

BY CHARLES READE 

28 Singleheart and Doubleface 10 

416 A Perilous Secret 20 

759 Foul Play 20 

773 Put Yourself in his Place 20 

913 Griffith Gaunt 20 

914 A Terrible Temptation 20 

915 Very Hard Cash 20 

916 It is Never Too Late to Mend 20 

917 The Knightsbridge Mystery 10 

918 A Woman Hater 20 

919 Readiana 10 

BY REBECCA FERGUS REDD 

16 Freckles 20 

408 The Brierfield Tragedy 20 

BY “ RITA 

656 Dame Durden 20 

699 Like Dian’s Kiss 20 

BY SIR H. ROBERTS 

101 Harry Holbrooke 20 

BY A. M. F. ROBINSON 

134 Arden 16 

BY REGINA MARIA ROCHE 

411 Children of the Abbey 30 

ROLLIN’ S ANCIENT HISTORY. 

1108 Volume 1 20 

1111 “ II 20 

1114 “ III 20 

1117 “ IV 20 

1122 “ V 20 

1125 ” VI 20 

1128 “ VII 20 I 

1131 “VIII 20 I 


BY BLANCHE ROOSEVELT 


837 Marked “In Haste” 20 

BY DANTE ROSSETTI 

329 Poems 20 

BY JOHN RUSKIN 

497 Sesame and Lilies 10 

605 Crown of Wild Olives 10 

610 Ethics of the Dust 10 

616 Queen of the Air 10 

621 ^ven Lamps of Architecture 20 

637 Lectures on Architecture and Paint- 
ing 15 

642 Stones of Venice, 3 Vols., each 25 

566 Modern Painters, Vol. 1 20 

672 “ “ Vol. II 20 

577 “ “ Vol. Ill 20 

689 “ “ Vol. IV 26 

608 “ “ Vol. V 25 

698 King of the Golden River 10 

623 U nto tb is Last. 10 

627 Munera Pulveris 15 

637 “ A Joy Forever ” 16 

639 The Pleasures of England 10 

642 The Two Paths 20 

644 Lectures on Art 15 

047 Aratra Pentelici 15 

650 Time and Tide 15 

666 Mornings in Florence 16 

668 St. Mark’s Rest 15 

670 Deucalion 15 

673 Art of England 15 

676 Eagle’s Nest 15 

679 ‘ Our Fathers Have Told Us” 16 

682 Proserpina.. 15 

686 Vhl d’Amo . . . .' 15 

688 Love’s Meinie 16 

707 Fors Clavigera, Part I. 30 

708 “ “ Part 11 30 

713 ‘‘ “ Part III 30 

714 “ “ Part IV 30 

BY MRS. ROWSON 

159 Charlotte Temple 10 

BY W. CLARK RUSSELL 

123 A Sea Queen 20 

399 John Holdsworth 20 . 

833 A Voyage to the Cape 20 

834 Jack’s Courtship 20 

835 A Sailor’s Sweetheart, 20 

&36 On the Fo’k’sle Head 20 

997 The Golden Hope 20 

1087 The Frozen Pirate 20 

BY DORA RUSSELL 

816 The Broken Seal 20 

BY GEORGE SAND 

135 The Tower of Percemont 20 

965 The Lilies of Florence 20 

BY J. X. B. SAINTINE 

710 Picciola 10 

BY MRS. W. A. SAVILLE 

27 Social Etiquette 15 

BY DR. E. J. SCHELLHOUS 

1094 The New Republic 30 

BY J. C. F. VON SCHILLER 

341 Schiller’s Poems 20 

BY MICHAEL SCOTT 

171 Tom Cringle’s Log 20 


10 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY 


BY SIR WALTER SCOTT 

145 Ivanhoe, 2 Parts, each 15 

359 Lady of the Lake, with Notes 20 

489 Bride of Lammermoor 20 

490 Black Dwarf 10 

492 Castle Dangerous 15 

493 Legend of Montrose 15 

495 The Surgeon’s Daughter 10 

499 Heart of Mid-Lothian 80 

502 Waverley 20 

504 Fortn nes of N igel 20 

509 Peveril of the Peak 30 

515 The Pirate 20 

536 Poetical Works 40 

544 Redgauntlet 25 

551 Woodstock 20 

557 Coiint Robert of Paris 20 

569 The Abbot 20 

575 Quentin Durward 20 

581 The Talisman 20 

586 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

595 Anne of Geierstein 20 

605 Aunt Margaret’s Mirror 10 

607 Chronicles of the Cauongate 15 

609 The Monastery 20 

620 Guy Mannering 20 

625 Kenilworth 25 

629 The Antiquary 20 

0:i2 Rob Roy 20 

635 The Betrothed 20 

638 Fair Maid of Perth 20 

641 Old Mortality 20 

BY EUGENE SCRIBE 

22 Fleurette 20 

BY PRINCIPAL SHAIRP 

834 Life of Burns 10 

BY MARY W. SHELLEY 

5 Frankenstein 10 

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

549 Complete Poetical Works 30 

BY S. SHELLEY 

191 The Nautz Family 20 

BY J. H. SHORTHOUSE 

832 Sir Percival 10 


BY EDITH SIMCOX 

513 Men, Women, and Lovers 20 

BY WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


640 

The Partisan 


648 

Mellicharape 


6.53 

The Yemassee 


657 

Katherine Walton 


662 

Southward Ho I 


671 

The Scout 

30 

674 

The Wigwam and Cabin 


677 

Vasconselos 

30 

680 

Confession 

30 

684 

Woodcraft 

30 

687 

Richard Hurdis 


690 

Guy Rivers 


693 

Border Beagles 


697 

The Fora vers 

80 

702 

Charlemont 

30 

703 

Entaw 


705 

Beauchampe 

BY J. P. SIMPSON 


125 

Haunted Hearts , 

BY A. P. SINNETT 


924 

Karma 



BY HAWLEY SMART 

780 Bad to Beat 10 

1103 Saddle and Sabie 20 

BY SAMUEL SMILES 

425 Self-Help 25 

BY A. SMITH 

594 A Summer in Skye 20 

BY GOLDWIN SMITH 

110 False Hopes 15 

424 Life of Cowper 10 

BY J. GREGORY SMITH 

65 Selma 15 

BY S. M. SMUCKER 

248 Life of Webster, 2 Parts, each 16 

BY F. SPIELHAGEN 

449 Quisiana 20 

BY STARKWEATHER AND 
WILSON 

461 Socialism 10 

BY LESLIE STEPHEN 

396 Life of Pope 10 

401 Life of Johnson . . .10 

BY STEPNIAK 

173 TJuderground Russia 20 

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON I 

767 Kidnapped 20 

768 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. 

Hyde 10 

769 Prince Otto 10 

770 The Dynamiter 20 

793 New Arabian Nights 20 

819 Treasure Island 20 

921 The Merry Men 20 

1102 The Misadventures of John Nich- 
olson 10 

BY HESBA STRETTON 

729 In Prison and Out 20 

BY JULIAN STURGIS 

1062 Dick’s Wandering 20 

BY EUGENE SUE 

772 My.steries of Paris, 2 Parts, each . . .20 
776 The Wandering Jew, 2 Parts, each .20 

BY DEAN SWIFT 

68 Gulliver* s Travel s 20 


BY CHAS. ALGERNON SWIN- 
BURNE 

412 Poems 20 

BY J. A. SYMONDS 

361 Life of Shelley 10 

BY H. A. TAINE 

442 Taine's English Literature 40 

BY NIKOLAI V. TCHERNUISH- 
COSKY 

1017 A Vital Question 30 

BY LORD TENNYSON 

446 Poems 40 

BY JUDGE D. P. THOMPSON 

21 The Green Mountain Boys 20 

BY THEODORE TILTON 

94 Tempest Tossed , Part 1 20 

94 Tempest Tossed, Part II 20 


11 


LOVELL S LIBRARY 


BY W. M. THACKERAY 

141 Henry Esmond ....20 

143 Denis Duval 20 

148 Catherine 10 

156 Level, the Widower 10 

164 Barry Lyndon 20 

172 Vanity Fair 30 

193 History of Pendennis, 2 Parts, each..20 

21 1 The Newcoraes, 2 Parts, each 20 

220 Book of Snobs 10 

229 Paris Sketches 20 

235 Adventures of Philip, 2 Parts, each. .15 

238 The Virtrinians, 2 Parts, each 20 

252 Critical Reviews, etc 10 

256 Eastern Sketches 10 

262 Fatal Boots, etc 10 

264 The Four Georges 10 

280 Fitzboodle Papers, etc 10 

283 Roundabout Papers 20 

285 A Legend of the Rhine, etc 10 

286 Cox’s Diary, etc 10 

292 Irish Sketches, etc 20 

296 Men’s Wives 10 

300 Novels by Eminent Hands 10 

803 Character Sketches, etc 10 

304 Christmas Books 20 

306 Ballads 15 

307 Yellowplush Papers 10 

309 Sketches and Travels in London 10 

313 English Humorists 15 

316 Great Hoggarty Diamond 10 

320 The Rose and the Ring 10 

BY COUNT LYOF TOLSTOI 

1110 My Husband and 1 10 

1113 Polikouchka 10 

1124 Two Generations 10 

BY ANTHONY TROLLOPE 

133 Mr. Scarborough’s Family, 2 Parts, 

each 16 

251 Autobiography of Anthony Trollope.20 

344 Life of Thackeray 10 

867 An Old Man’s Love 16 

BY F. A. TUPPER 

896 Moonshine 20 

BY J. VAN LENNEP 

468 The Count of Talavera 20 

BY JULES VERNE 

34 800 Leagues on the Amazon 10 

85 The Cryptogram 10 

154 Tour of the World in Eighty Days. .20 

166 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea .. ..20 

185 The Mysterious Island, 3 Parts, each.l5 

BY QUEEN VICTORIA 

365 More Leaves Irom a Life in the High- 
lands 16 

BY VIRGIL 

640 Poems 25 

BY L. B. WALFORD 

1055 Mr. Smith 20 

1056 The History of a Week 10 

1057 The Baby’s Grandmother 20 

1058 Troublesome Daughter 20 

1059 Cousins 20 


BY GEORGE WALKER 

13 The Three Spaniards 20 

BY SAMUEL WARREN 

935 Ten Thousand a Year, Part [ 20 

“ “ “ Part II 20 

“ “ “ Part III ....20 


BY PROF. A. W. WARD 

413 Life of Chaucer 10 

BY F. WARDEN 

TsT Doris’ Fortune JQ 

980 At tlie World’s Mercy 10 

981 The House on the Marsh [ . 20 

982 Deldee 20 

983 A Prince of Darkness 20 

1073 Scheherazade 20 

BY DESHLER WELCH 

427 .Life of Grover Cleveland 20 

BY E. WERNER 

614 At a High Price 20 

734 Vineta ^ 

BY MRS. HENRY WOOD 

54 East Lynne 20 

902 The Mystery 20 

1093 Lady Grace 20 

BY MRS. WHITCHER 

194 Widow Bedott Pai)er8 20 

BY J. G. WHITTIER 

450 Poems 20 

BY VIOLET WHYTE 

963 Her Johnnie. 20 

BY W. M. WILLIAMS 

80 Science in Short Chapters 20 

BY N. P. WILLIS 

352 Poems 20 

BY C. F. WINGATE 

830 Twilight Club Tracts 20 

BY EDMUND YATES 

723 Running the Gauntlet 20 

724 Broken to H arness ^ 

BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE 

858 A Modern Telemachus 20 

899 Love and Life 20 

BY ERNEST A. YOUNG 

666 Barbara’s Rival 20 

691 A Woman’s Honor 20 

MISCELLANEOUS 

26 Life of Washington 20 

37 Paul and Virginia 10 

47 Baron Munchausen 10 

63 The Vendetta, by Balzac . . 20 

66 Margaret and her Bridesmaids 20 

72 Queen of the County 20 

98 The Gypsy Queen 20 

118 A New Lease of Life 20 

169 Beyond the Sunrise 20 

181 Whist, or Bumbleplippy ? 10 

360 Modern Christianity a Civiliz^ 

Heathenism 15 

266 Plutarch’s Lives. 6 Parts, each 20 

291 Famous Funny Fellows 20 

823 Life of Paul Jones 20 

332 Every-Day Cook-Book 20 

340 Clayton’s Rangers 20 

3® Swiss Family Robinson 20 

386 Childhood of the World 10 

397 Arabian Nights’ Entertainments 25 

402 How He Reached the White House. 25 

433 Wrecks in the Sea of Life 20 

434 Typhaines Abbey 25 

483 The Child Hunters 16 

857 A Wilful Young Woman 20 

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^ galje of tlxje ^i»itxhzxiUd 



GUSTAVE AIMARD 

t > 

AUTHOR OF “ THE MISSOURI OUTLAWS,” “ PRAIRIE FLOWER,” “ THE INDIAN SCOUT,” ETC. 


} 


REVISED AND EDITED BY PERCY B. ST. JOHN 



NEW YORK 


JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 

■> ‘ 

14 AND 16 Vesey Street 


, - LOVELL LIBR./1RT ADVEBTLSER. 

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(Makers of Eight Million Machines.) 


CONTENTS 


CMAFTER 


PAOB 


I. AN EXCHANGE OF SHOTS 

• 


• 


• 


• 


• 

• 

5 

n. ON THE PRAIRIE . 


• 

• 

• 


r 


% 

• 


lO 

III. THE BI/OUAC . 

• 


• 

• 

• 


% 


• 

• 

H 

IV. THE POST OF SAN MIGUEL • 


%* 

a 

% 

V 


% 


K 

• 


i8 

V. THE STAY IN THE FOREST 

• 


• 

• 

• 




• 

• 

22 

VI, A GLANCE AT THE PAST . 


9 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


25 

VII. THE FAMILY TRIBUNAL , 

• 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 

28 

VIII. THE TWO BROTHERS , , 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


32 

IX. A NEW CHARACTER . , 











.34 

X. DON JOSE PAREDES 











37 

ON THE ROAD . 



( 

■f 

• 



• 


• 

« 

41 

Al/. A CONVERSATION BY NIGHT 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


43 

XIII. THE REAL DE MINAS 

• 


• 


» 


• 


• 

• 

46 

XIV. THE BARGAIN • , 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


49 

XV. THE UNITED INDIANS • 











52 

XVI. THE ATEPETL 











55 

XVII. THE SPY 











58 

XVIII. THE COUNCIL OF THE SACHEMS 


• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


61 

XIX. LOST .... 

• 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 

65 

XX. THE RETURN . • • 









• 


70 

XXI. CHANCE WORK . . 

• 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 

72 

XXII. FATHER AND SON . • 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


75 

XXIII. THE WHITE-SKINS . • 

m 


<• 

# 





• 

• 

77 

XXIV. SERIOUS EVENTS • ,, 


• 

«r 

<» 


o 


• 

• 


81 

XXV. THE TIGRERO . • * 











84 

XXVI. THE EXCURSION . . • 











90 

XXVII. THE hunters’ CAMP . 











93 

XXVIH. THE LEGEND . • • 









• 


96 

XXIX. KIDD REAPPEARS . 

• 


• 

• 

• 


• 


a 

• 

lOI 

XXX. COMPLICATIONS • . • 


t 

• 

• 


• 


• 

9 


104 












109 

XXXII. THE HACIENDA DEL TORO • 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


III 

XXXIII. THE HUERTA . 











II4 

XXXIV. THE ASSAULT ON QUITOVAR 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


II7 

XXXV. THE VENGEANCE OF HEAVEN 



• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 

120 

XXXVI. FUNERAL OF A SACHEM • 


• 

• 

• 


• 


• 

• 


124 




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STRONGH AND. 



CHAPTER I, 

AN EXCHANGE OF SHOTS. 

Towards the second half of June — which the Navajoe Indians call the "straw* 
berry moon” in their harmonious language — and in the year of grace 1843, a 
horseman suddenly emerged from a thick clump of oaks, sumachs, and mahogany- 
trees, entered the savannah extending between the Sierra de San Saba and the Rio 
Puerco, or Dirty River, one of the most mournful and melancholy regions imagin- 
able, at a gallop,, and, instead of following the usual travellers* track, began, without 
any hesitation, crossing the desert in a straight line. 

This resolution was a mark of great folly, or a proof of extraordinary daring on 
the part of a solitary man, however brave he might be. 

However, whatever the motives that might deterrnine the traveller, he continued 
his journey rapidly, and buried himself deeper and deeper in the desert. 

This person was a man of from twenty-five to thirty years of age, belonging 
to the pure Mexican race, of average height, and possessed of elegant manners j 
wliilc his every gesture, graceful though it was, revealed far from ordinary strength. 
His face, with its regular features and blight hue, denoted frankness, bravery, and 
kindliness; his black eyes, haughty and open, had a straight and penetrating 
glance ; his well-cut mouth, adorned with dazzling white teeth, was half concealed 
beneath a long brown moustache; while his chin, of too marked an outline, per- 
haps, denoted great firmness of character. 

As for his dress, it was the Mexican costume in all its picturesque richness. 
His brood-brimmed vicuna-skin hat, decorated with a double gold and silver goliliat 
was carelessly set on his right ear, and allowed curls of luxurious black hair to fall 
in disorder on his shoulders. He wore a jacket of green velvet, magnificently 
embroidered with gold, under which could be seen a worked linen shirt. An Indian 
handkerchief was fastened round his neck by a diamond ring. His caizonerat. 


6 


S trough and. 


also of green velvet, held round his hips by a red silk gold-fringed fa-ja, were 
embroidered and slashed like a jacket, while two rows of pearl-set gold buttons ran 
along the opening that extends from the boot to the knee. Mis vaquera boots,, 
embroidered with pretty designs in red thread, were fastened to his legs by silk-and- 
gold garters, from one of whici emerged the admirably-carved hilt of a loiig knife. 
His zarape, of Indian fabric and showy colours, was folded on the back of his horse, 
an animal full of fire, with fine legs, small head, and flashing eye. It was a true 
prairie mustang, and its master had decorated it with the coquettish elegance 
peculiar to Mexican horsemen. 

In addition to the knife we referred to, and which the horseman wore in his right 
boot, he had also a long American rifle laid across his saddle-bow ; two six-shot 
revolvers in his girdle ; a machete, or species of straight sabre, which was passed, 
unsheathed, through an iron ring on his left side ; and, lastly, a reata, or lasso, of 
plaited leather, rolled up and fastened to the saddle. 

I'hus armed, the man we have just described was able to make head against 
several adversaries at once, without any serious disadvantage. This was a con- 
sideration not at all to be despised in a country where a traveller ever runs the risk 
of encountering enemies, whether man or beast. 

While galloping the horseman carelessly smoked a husk cigarette, only taking an 
absent and disdainful glance at the coveys < f birds that rose on his approach, or 
the herds of deer and packs of foxes which fled at his approach. 

The savannah, however, was already beginning to assume a more gloomy tinge; 
the sun, now level with the groun'l, only appeared on the horizon as a red unheated 
ball, and night was soon about to cover the earth with its dense gloom. The horse- 
man drew up the biidle of his steed to check its speed, though not entirely stopping 
it, and, casting an investigating glance around him, seemed to be seeking a suitable 
spot for the night. 

After a few seconds of search, his determination was formed. He turned slightly 
to the left, and proceeded to a half-dried-up stream that ran a short distance off, and 
on whose banks grew a few prickly shrubs and a clump of some dozen larches, 
forming a piecaiious shelter against the mysterious denizens of the desert that 
prowl ai-out at night in search of prey. 

On drawing nearer the traveller perceived to his delight that this spot, perfectly 
hidden fiom prying glances by the conformation of the ground and a few blocks of 
stune, offered him an almost certain shelter. 

The journey had been tiling, and both man and horse felt themselves worn with 
fatigue. 

Tne horseman, as an experienced traveller, first attended to his steed, which he 
unsaddled and led to drink ; then, after hobbling the animal, for fear it might stray 
and become the prey of wild beasts, he stretched his zarape on the ground, threw a 
few handfuls of Indian corn upon it, and then thought about himself. 

Mexicans, when travelling, have behind their saddle two canvas bags, called 
alforjas, intended to carry food, which it is impossible to procure in the desert ; and 
these, with two jars filled with drinking-water, form the sole baggage with v/hich 
they travel enormous distances and endure intense privations and faligu-'. 

The horsema 1 opened his aifoijas, sat down on the ground with his back against 
a rock, and, while careful that his weapons were within reach, began supping 
philosophically on a piece of tasajo, some maize tortillas, and goat’s cheese as hard 
as a flint, the whole being washed down with water. 

'I'his repast, which was more than frugal, was soon terminated. The horseman, 
after cleaning his teeth with an elegant gold toothpick, rolled a pajillo, smoked it 
with that conscientious beatitude peculiar to the Hispano-Americans, and then 
wrapped himself in his zarape, shut his eyes, and fell asleep. 


An Exchange of Shots. 


1 


Several hours passed ; and it is probable that the traveller’s sleep would have been 
prolonged for some time, had not two shots fired a short distance from him, sud- 
denly aroused him from his lethargy. 

The traveller, thus unpleasantly awakened, seized his w apons, concealed him- 
self behind a rock, and waited. Then, as the attack was not renewed, he rose 
softly, and carefully looked around him. 

Not a sound disturbed the maj 'Stic solitude of the deseit. But this sudden tran- 
quillity after the two shots, instead of reassuring the traveller, only augmented liis 
anxiety. 

The night was cleat, and, so to speak, transparent ; the sky, of a deep blue, was 
studded with sparkling stars, and the moon shed a white and melancholy light 
that allowed the country t > be seen for a long distance. 

At all hazards he saddled his horse ; then, after concealing it in a rocky cavity, 
he lay down, placed his ear to the ground, and listened. Then he fancied he could 
hear, a long distance ofiP, a sound, at first almost imperceptible, but which rapidly 
approached j and he soon recognised in it the wild galloping of several horses. 

Was it a hunt or a p'usuit. But who would dream of hunting in the middle of 
night ? The Indians would not venture it, while white and half-breed trappers only 
rarely visited these deserted regions, which they abandoned to the savages and 
border-ruffians — utter villains who, expelled from the towns and pueblos, have no 
other shelter than the deseit. 

The traveller rose from the ground. 

Suddenly the shrieks of a woman or girl burst forth on the night, with an ex- 
pression of terror and agony impossible to dep.ct. 

The stranger, leaving his hoise in its shelter, dashed forward in the direction 
whence the cry came, leaping from rock to rock, with the feverish speed of the brave 
man who believes himself suddenly called by Providence to save a fellow-being in 
danger. 

Still prudence did not wholly desert him ; and, before risking himself on the 
plain, he stopped behind a fringe of larch-trees, in order to try and find out what 
was going on. 

This is what he saw : Two men whom, from their appearance, he at once recog- 
nised as belonging to the worst species of praiiic-runneis were pursuing a young 
girl. But, thanks to her juvenile agility — an agility doubtless doubled by the pro- 
found terror the bandits inspired her with — the maiden bounded like a startled fawn 
across the prairie, leaping ravines, clearing every obstacle, and gaining at each 
moment a greater advance on her pursuers, who were impeded by their vaquera 
boots and heavy rifles. 

A few minutes later, and the maiden had reached the belt of trees behind which the 
traveller had concealed himself, when suddenly one of the bandits raised his rifle 
and pulled the trigger. 

The girl fell, and the horseman seemed to change his mind — for, instead of ad- 
vancing, he drew himself back and stood motionless, with his finger on the trigger, 
ready to fire'. 

The pirates rapidly approached, talking together in that medley of English, 
French, Spanish, and Indian wnich is employed throughout the Far West. 

“ Hum I ’’ s,iid a hoarse and panting voice ; “ what a gazelle 1 I really thought 
she would escape us.’’ 

" Yes, yes,” the other answered, tapp'ng the barrel of his rifle; **but 1 always 
felt certain of bringing her down when I thought proper.*’ 

“ Yes. and you did not miss her, carai! although it was a long shot.** 

“ Habit, compadre ! habit,” the band t answered, with a modest smile. 

Talking thus, the two bandits had reached the spot where the body of the girl 


Stronghand. 


% 


lay. One of them knelt down, doubtless to assure himself of the death of their 
victim ; while the other, the one who had fired, looked on carelessly. 

The traveller then drew himself up, raised his piece, and fired. The bandit, 
struck in the centre of the breast, sank down li\e a sack. He was dead. 

His companion had started and laid his hand on his machete ; but, not leaving 
him time to employ it, the tiaveller rushed forward, and, with a powerful blow of 
the butt-end of his gun on his head, sent him to join his comrade on the ground, 
where he rolled, half killed. 

The traveller, taking the bandit’s reata, then firmly bound his hands and feet; 
and, easy in mind on this point, he approached the maiden. The poor girl gave no 
sign of life, but, for all that, was not dead ; her woun i was slight. Terror alone 
had produced her fainting-fit. 

The stranger carefully bandaged the wound, slightly moistened her lips and 
temples, and, after a short period, liad the satisfaction of seeing her open her 
eyes. 

“ Oh I ” she murmured, in a soft and melodious voice, ** those men — those 
demons 1 Oh ! Heaven 1 protect me ! ” 

“ Reassure yourself, senorita,” the traveller answered ; “ you have nothing further 
to fear.” 

The maiden started at the sound of this strange voice; she fixed her eyes on the 
stranger wit' out giving him any answer, and made an attempt to rise. She doubt- 
less took this man for one of her pursuers. The latter smiled 'mournfully, and 
pointed to the two bandits. 

“ Look, senorita,” he said to her; “ you have only a friend here.” 

At this sight an expression of unbounded gratitule i.lumined the wounde 1 girl’s 
face, and a sickly smile appeared on her lips ; but almost immediately her features 
grew saddened again. She sprang up, and, stretching out her right arm, towards a 
point on the horizon, exclaimed in a voice broken by terror — 

“ There, there I Look 1 ’’ 

The stranger turned round. A party of horsemen were coming up at full speed, 
preceded about a rifle-shot distance by another horseman. The stranger then 
remembered the furious galloping he had heard a few minutes before. 

Oh 1 ’’ the girl exclaimed, clasping her hands, “ save him, senor 1 Save 
him ! ” 

“ I will try, senorita,” he replied, gently, “ all that a man can do.” 

“Thank you,” she said, offering him her little hand; “you area noble-heatted 
man.” 

“ You must not remain here exposed to the insults of these men.” 

“ That is true,’’ she said ; “ but what can I do ? ” 

“ Follow me behind thes.* trees ; we have not a moment tb lose.” 

•* Yes,” she said, resolutely. “ But you will save him ! — will you not ? ** 

“At least I will try. I have only my life to offer the person in whom you 
take an interest ; and, believe me, senorita, I shall not hesitate to make the 
sacrifice.” 

The maiden looked down with a blush and followed her guide. They soon 
teached the thicket in which the stranger had established his quarters. 

“ Whatever happens,’’ he said, “ remain here, senorita. Y ou are in safety in 
Jiis hollow rock. For my part, I am going to help your friend.” 

“ Go,” she said, as she knelt ; “ while you aie fighting 1 will pi ay for 
you.’’ 

“ Y es,” the stranger answered, “ God listens gladly to the voice of angels.** 

He leaped on his horse, and, after giving a parting glance at the maiden, dashed 

at full speed in the direction of the ncw*6omcrs. They were seven in numbet— 


An Exchange of Shots. 


9 


bandits with stern faces and dangerous aspect, who dashed up brandishing their 
weapons and uttering t orrible yells. 

The pursued horseman, on seeing a man emergt so unexpectedly from the 
thickit, rifle in hand, naturally supposed that assistance was arriving fur his foes, 
and dashed on one side to avoid one whom he assumed, with some show of reason, 
to be an adversary the more. But the bandits were not mistaken when they saw 
the stranger not only let tljeir prey escape, but stop in front of them and cock his 
rifle. 

Two shots were fired at the same moment, one by a bandit, the other by the 
stranger, with the difference, however, that the bandit's shot, being fired haphazard, 
was harmless ; while the stranger’s, being deliberately aimed, struck exactly in the 
mass of his serried foes. 

A few seconds later one of them let go his bridle, beat the air with his arms, fell 
back on his horse, and at length on the ground. 

A war so frankly declared could not have a sudden termination — four shots suc- 
ceeding each other with extreme rapidity on either side were a sufficient proof of this. 
But the stranger’s position was growing critical; his rifle was discharged, and he 
had only his revolvers left. 

The revolver, by the way, is a weapon more convenient than useful in a fight, for 
if you wish to hit your man you must fire at him almost point-blank, otherwise the 
bullets have a tendency to stray. 

'lire stranger was, therefore, somewhat embarrassed, and was preparing in his 
emergency for a hand-to-hand fight when help he had been far from calculating 
on suddenly reached him. 

The pursued horseman, on hearing the firing, and yet finding no bullets whizzed 
past him, understood that something unusual was taking place. Hence he turned 
back, and saw one of his enemies fall. Recognising his mistake, he made up his 
mind at once ; though only armed with a machete, he wheeled his horse round and 
drew’ up alongside his defender. 

Then the two men, without exchanging a word, resolutely dashed at the bandits. 
The sides were nearly equal, for of the seven pirates only four were now alive. 

The attack was so sudden that the pirates had not time to reload. Two were 
killed with revolver-shots ; the third fell with his head severed by a machete blow 
from the horseman, who was burning to take an exemplary vengeance ; while the 
fourth, finding himself alone, fled at full speed without attempting to continue a com* 
bat which could not but be fatal to him. 

The two men consequently retiramed masters of the battle-field. 


CHAPTER II. 


ON THE PRAIRIE. 

When the last bandit had disappeared, the horseman turned to his generous 
defender in order to thank him ; but the latter was no longer by his side. He was 
galloping some distance off on the plain. 

The horseman knew not to what he should attribute this sudden departure, till he 
saw him return, leading another horse by the bridle. 

The stranger had thought of the young lady he had so miraculously saved, and 
seeing the horses of the killed bandits galloping about, he resolved at once to capture 
the best of them, in order to enable her to continue her journey j and when the 
animal was lassoed he returned slowly towards the stranger. 

“ Senor,” the horseman said, as soon as they met again, “ all is not over yet ; I 
have a further service to ask of you.” 

‘‘ Speak, Caballero,” the stranger replied; “ speak, I am listening to you.” 

“ A woman, an unhappy girl — my sister, in a word — is lost in this terrible desert. 
Some of these scoundrels started in pursuit of her. I am in mortal agony, and 
must rejoin her at all risks ; hence help me to find my sister’s track.” 

“ It is useless,” the stranger answered, coldly. 

“ Why useless ? ” the horseman exclaimed, with horror ; has any misfortune 
happened to her ? Ah I I remember now ; I fancied, while I was flying, that I 
heard several shots. Oh, Heaven, Heaven I ” he added, ” my poor sister, my poor 
Maiianita ! ” 

“ Reassure yourself, Caballero,” the stranger continued ; “ your sister is safe. 
Heaven permitted that I should cross her path.” 

“ Are you stating truth ? ” he exclaimed, joyfully. “ Oh, bless you, senor, for 
the happy news! Where is she? Let me see her I Alas I how shall I ever acquit 
my debt to you ? ” 

“ Y ou owe me nothing,” the stranger answered, in a rough voice ; ” it was chance 
that did everything. My conduct would have been the same to any other person ; 
so keep your gratitude — which I do not ask. Who knows,” he added, “ whether 
you may not some day repent of having contracted obligations towards me?’’ 

The horseman felt internally pained at the w’ay in which his advances were 
received by a man who scarce five minutes previously had saved his life ; but he 
said, with exquisite politeness — 

‘‘ The spot is badly chosen for a lengtnened conversation, caballero. We are still, 
if not strangers, at least unknown to each other, 1 trust that ere long all coldness 
and misunderstanding will cease between us.” 

“ Come,” the other said, ” ycur sister is near here, and must be impatient to see 
you.” 

The horseman followed him, asking himself who this singular man could be, 
who risked his life to defend him and yet appeared anxious to treat liim as an 
enemy. 

All the sounds of the combat had reached the maiden’s ear ; she heard them 
while kneeling on the ground half dead with terror. 


On the Prairie. 


11 


Then the firing had ceased : a mournfnl silence again spread over the desert — a 
silence more terrifying a thousand-fold than the sounds of the fight, and she 
remained crouching in a corner and suffering from nameless agony, alone, and far 
from all human help, not daring to retain a single hope. 

'J'he poor girl could not have said how long she remained thus beneath the weight 
of terror. 

Suddenly she started ; her strong nerves relaxed, a fugitive flush tinged her 
cheek : she fancied she had heard a few words uttered in a low voice not far from 
her. 

She remained anxious and motionless, not daring to make a movement or utter a 
cry to nsk for help; for a movement might reveal her presence, a cry hopelessly ruin 
her. 

But ere long the bushes were parted by a powerful hand, and two horsemen 
appeared. The maiden stretched out her hands to them with an exclamation of 
delight, and fainted. 

She had recognised in the men, who arrived side by side, her brother and the 
stranger to whom she owed her life. 

When she recovered her senses she was lying on furs in front of a large fire. The 
two men were sitting on her right and left. 

Somewhat in the shadow, a few paces from her, the maiden perceived a mass 
whose form it was impossible for her to disiii.guish at the fiist glance. It looked 
like a body. 

The maiden was anxious to speak and thank her liberator ; but the shock she 
had received was so rude, the emotion so powerful, that it was impossible for her to 
utter a word. She could only give him a glance full of gratitude, and then fell 
back into a state of feverish exhaustion and morbid apathy. 

“ It is well,” said the stranger, as he carefully closed a gold-mounted flask and 
concealed it in his bosom. “ Now, Caballero, there is nothing more to fear; the 
draught I have administered to her, by procuring her a calm and healthy sleep will 
restore her strength sufficiently for her to be able to continue her journey at sunrise, 
should it be necessary.” 

“ Caballero,” the stranger answered, “ you are really performing the part of 
Providence towards me and my sister. I know not how to express the gratitude 
I feel for an action which is the more generous as I am a perfect stranger to you.” 

‘‘Do you think so?” he answered sarcistically. 

“ The more I examine your face the more conv inced I am that I have met you to- 
night for the first time.” 

“ You would not venture to affirm it ? ” 

“ Y es, I would. Y our features are too remarkable for me not to remember them 
if I had seen you before.” 

There was a momentary silence, and then the stranger spoke again. 

‘‘ Be it so, Caballero,” he answered, with a bow; “perhaps 1 am mistaken. Be 
good enough, therefore, to tell me who you are and by what concourse of circum- 
stances I l.ave been enabled to render you what you call a great service.” 

“ And it is an immense one, caballero,” the stranger interrupted. 

“ I will not discuss that subject any longer. I await your pleasure.” 

“ Senor, I will not abuse your patience for long. My name is Don Ruiz de 
Moguer, and I reside with my father at a hacienda in the vicinity of Arispe. For 
reasons too lengthy to explain to you, the presence of my sister (who has been at 
school for some years at a convent) became indispensable at the hacienda. By iny 
father’s orders I set out for El Rosario a few months ago to bring her home. I was 
anxious to rejoin my father; and hence, in spite of the observations made to me by 
versons acquainted with the dangers attending so long a journey through a desert 


12 


Stronghand, 


country, I resolved to take no escort, but start for home merely accompanied by two 
peons. 

“ My sister, who had been separated from her family for several yeais, was as 
eager as myself. For the first few days all went well ; our journey was performed 
under the most favourable auspices, and my sister and I laughed at the anxiety and 
apprehensions of our friends. 

“ But yesterday at sunset, just as we were preparing our camp for the night, we 
were suddenly attacked by a party of bandits. Our poor brave peons were killed 
while defending us, and my sister’s horse, struck by a bullet in the head, threw her. 
But the brave girl, far from surrendering to the bandits, who rushed forward to 
seize her, began flying across the savannah. Then I tried to lead the aggressors off 
the scent, and induce them to pursue me. You know the rest, caballero.’’ 

There was a silence, which Don Ruiz was the fi st to break. 

“ Caballero.” he said, “now tell me the name of my saviouV* 

“ What good is it ? ’’ the stranger answered, sadly. “ We have come together for 
a moment by chance, and shall separate to-morrow. Not knowing who I am, you 
will soon have forgotten me. Believe me, Senor Don Ruiz, it is better that it should 
be so. Who knows you may not regret some day knowing me ? ” 

“It is the second time you have said that, cabal lero. Your words breathe a 
bitterness that pains me. You must have suffered very grievously for your thoughts 
to be so sad and your heart so disenchanted.” 

The stranger raised his head, and bent on his questioner a glance that seemed to 
read to the bottom of his soul ; the latter continued — 

“ Oh, do not mistake the meaning I attach to my words, caballero. I have no 
intention to encroach on your secrets. Every man’s life belongs to himself — his 
actions concern himself alone. The only thing I ask of you is to tell me your name, 
that my sister and myself may retain it in our hearts.” 

“ Why insist on so frivolous a matter.^ ” 

“ What reason have you to be so obstinate in remaining unknown ? ** 

“ Then you insist on my telling you my name } ” 

“Oh, caballero, I have no right to insist; 1 only ask it.” 

“Very good,” said the stranger; “you shall know it; but it will teach you 
nothing.” 

“ Pardon me, caballero,” Don Ruiz remarked; “this name, repeated by me to my 
father, will tell him every hour in the day that it is to the man who bears it that he 
owes the life of his children.” 

In spite of himself the stranger felt affected. By an instinctive movement he 
offered his hand to the young man, which the latter pressed affectionately. But, as 
if suddenly reproaching himself for yielding to his feelings, this strange man sharply 
drew back his hand, and said, with a roughness in his voice that astonished and 
saddened the young Mexican — 

“ You shall be satisfied.” 

We have said that Dona Marianita, in looking round her, fancied she saw the 
body of a man stretched on the ground. The maiden was not mi.staken ; it was a 
man she saw, carefully bound. It was, in a word, one of the two bandits who had 
pursued her so long, and the one whom the stranger had almost killed. 

After recommending Don Ruiz to be patient, the stranger rose, walked up to the 
bandit, threw him on his shoulders, and laid him at the feet of the young Mexican, 
perhaps rather roughly — for the pirate, in spite of the thorough Indian stoicism he 
affected, could not suppress a yell oi pain. 

“ Who is he, and what do you purpose doing with him ? ” Don Ruiz asked. 

“ This scoundrel,” said the strung e,r, “ was one of the band that attacked you ; 
we are going to try him.” 


On the Prairie, 


*3 


** Try him ? ” the young gentleman objected ; “we? ** 

“ Of course,” the stranger said, as he removed the bandit’s gag. ** Do you fancy 
tiiat we are going to trouble ourselves with the scoundrel till we find a prison in 
which to place him ? No, no ; that would be madness. When the snakp is d^ 
tile venom is dead too; it is better to try him.” 

“ But by what right do we constitute ourselves judges of this man ? ” 

“ By what right ? ” the stranger exclaimed. “ The Border Law, which says, 
‘ Eye for eye, tooth for tooth.’ Lynch law authorises us to try this bandit and 
execute the sentence.” 

Don Ruiz reflected for a moment- during which the stranger looked at him 
aside. 

“ That is possible,” the young man at length answered ; “ perhaps you are 
right. This man is guilty — he is evidently a miserable assassin ; and, had my 
sister and myself fallen into his hands, he would not have hesitated to blow out our 
brains.” 

“ Well ? ” the stranger remarked. 

“ Well,” the young man contmued, “ this certainly does not authorise us in 
taking justice into our own hands ; besides, my sister is saved.” 

“ Then it is your opinion *’ 

“That, as we cannot hand this man over to justice, we are bound to set him at 
liberty.” 

“ You have, doubtless, carefully reflected on the consequences of the deed you 
advise ? ” 

“ My conscience orders me to act as I am doing.” 

“ Y our will be done I ” and, addressing the bandit, he said, “ Get up.” 

The pirate rose as he was told. 

“ Look at me,” the stranger continued ; “ do you know me ? ” 

No,” the bandit said. 

“ Look at me more carefully, Kidd,” he said, in a sharp, imperious voice. 

The scoundrel, who had bent forward, drew himself back with a start of fear, 

*• Stronghand ! ” he exclaimed, in a voice choked by dread. 

“Ah,” the horseman said, with a sardonic smile, “ 1 see that you recognise me 
now.” 

“ Yes,” the bandit mutfered, “ What are your orders ? ” 

“ I have none. You heard all we have been saying, I suppose, and have an 
opinion ? ’’ 

“ Yes,” he answered, in a rather humble voice, but yet with a tinge of irony easy 
lo notice, “ and I think that when you hold your enemy you ought to kill him.” 

“ What do you say to that ? ” the stranger asked, turning to Don Ruiz. 

“ I say,” he replied, simply, “ that as this man is not my enemy, I cannot and 
ought not to take any vengeance on him.” 

“Hence?” 

“ Hence, justice alone has the right to make him account for his conduct” 

“ And that is truly the expression of your thoughts ? ” 

“On my honour, caballero. During the fight I should not have felt the 
slightest hesitation in killing him — for in that case I was defending the life he tried 
to take ; but now that he is a prisoner, and unarmed, I have no longer aught to do 
with him.” 

In spite of the mask of indifference the stranger wore on his face, he could not 
completely hide the joy he experienced at hearing these noble sentiments so simply 
expressed. 

There was a moment’s silence, during which the three men seemed questioning 
each other’s faces. At length Stronghand spoke again, and addressed the bandit— 


/ 


H 


Stronghand, 

t'"' '• 


** Go ! you are free ! ’’ he said, as he cut the last bonds that held him. “ But 
remember, Kidd, that if it has pleased this Caballero to forgpve you, I have not. 
You know me, so do your best to keep out of my way. Begone ! ” 

“ All right, Stronghand, I will remember,” the bandit said, with a covert threap 
and disappeared. 


CHAPTER III. 

THE BIVOUAC. 

For some moments the bandit’s hurred footsteps were audible, and then all became 
silent once again. 

‘‘You wished it,” Stronghand then said, looking at Don Ruiz from under his 
bent brows. *‘ Now, be certain that you have at least one implacable enemy on the 
prairie.’* 

‘‘ I pity him if he hates me for the good I have done him in return for the harm 
he wished to do me, but honour ordered me to let him escape.” 

‘‘ Yours will be a short life, senor, if you carry out such philanthropic precepts.” 

” My ancestors had a motto to which they never proved false.” 

“ And pray what may that motto be, caballero ? ’* 

‘‘ Everything for honour, no matter what may happen,” the young man 
said. 

“ Yes,” Stronghand answered, with a harsh laugh; “the maxim is noble, and 
Heaven grant it prove of service to you ; but,” he continued, after looking round 
him, “ tlie darkness is beginning to grow less thick, the night is on the wane, and 
within an hour the sun will be up. Y ou know my name, which, as I told you 
beforehand, has not helped you much.’’ 

“You are mistaken, caballero,’’ Don Ruiz interrupted him, eagerly, “for I have 
frequently heard the name mentioned.” 

Stronghand bent a piercing glance on the young man. 

“ Ah I ” he said, with a slighi tremor in his voice ; “ and doubtless each time you 
heard that name uttered it was accompanied by far from flattering epithets.” 

“ Here again you are mistaken, senor ; it has been uttered in my presence as the 
name of a brave man, with a powerful heart and vast intellect, whom unknown and 
secret sorrow has urged to lead a strange life, to fly the society of his fellow-men, 
and to wander constantly about the deserts ; but who, under all circumstances, even 
spite of the examples that daily surrounded him, managed to keep his honour intact 
and retain a spotless reputation, which even the bandits, with whom the incidents 
of an adventurous life too often bring him into contact, are forced to admire. 
That, senor, is what this name, which you supposed I was ignorant of, recalls to my 
mind.” 

“ Can the world really be less wicked and unjust than I supposed it ? ” muttered 
Stronghand. 

“ Do not doubt it,” the young man said, eagerly. “ God, who has allowed the 
good and the bad to dwell side by side on this earth, has yet willed that the amount 


The Bivouac, 




6? pciod should exceed that of bad, so that, sooner or later, each should be requited 
according to his works and merits.’’ 

“ Such words,” he answered, ironically, “ would be more appropriate in the moutii 
a priest or missionary than in that of a young man who has scarce reached »he 
dawn of life. But no matfer, your intention is good, and I thank you. But wc 
have far more serious matters to attend to than losing our time in philosophical 
discussions.” 

” Pardon me,” Don Ruiz answered ; “ it does not become me, who am as yet but 
a child, to make such remarks lo you.” 

“ I have nothing to pardon you, senor,” Stronghand replied, with a smile ; “on 
the contrary, I thank you. Now let us attend to the most pressing affair — that is to 
say, what you purpose doing.” 

” I confess to you that I am greatly alarmed,” Don Ruiz replied, with a slight 
tinge of sadness. “ What has happened to me, the terrible danger I have incurred, 

and from which I only escaped thanks to your generous help ” 

“ Not a word more on that subject,” Stronghand interrupted him, quickly. 

” Were I alone,” said the young man, ” I s’^ould not hesitate to continue my 
journey. A brave man, and I believe myself one, nearly always succeeds in escaping 
the perils that threaten him ; but I have my sister with me — my sister, whose energy 
the terrible scene of this night has broken.” 

Stronghan*>l turned away, murmuring to himself compassionately — 

“ That is true, poor child.” Then he said to Don Ruiz, “ Still you must make 
up your mind.” 

“ Unfortunately, I have no choice. I shall continue my journey at sunrise, if my 
sister be in a condition to follow me.” 

“ That need not trouble you. When she awakes her strength will be sufficiently 
recovered for her to keep on horseback ; but the road is very long to Arispe.” 

” 1 know it ; and it is that which frightens me for my poor sister.” 

“ Listen to me. Perhaps there is a way for you to get out of the scrape. Two 
days’ journey from here there is a military post, placed like an advanced sentry to 
watch the frontier. The main point for you is to reach this post, when it will be 
easy for you to obtain from the commandant an escort.” 

“ 1 do not know this country ; one of the two peons acted as guide, and uow he is 
dead it is utterly impossible for me to find my way.” 

Stronghand looked at him with surprise mingled with compassion. 

Oh 1 ” he exclaimed, ‘‘how improvident is youth! What ! imprudent boy I 
you dared to risk yourself in the desert and entrust to a peon your sister’s precious 
life I But pardon me : reproaches are ill-suited at this moment.” ^ 

He let tiis head fall on his hands and plunged into serious reflections, while Don 
Ruiz looked at him with mingled apprehension and hope. 

After a few minutes, which seemed to last an age, Stronghand rose, seized his 
rifle, went up to his horse, saddled it, mounted, and said to Don Ruiz, who followed 
all his movements with anxious curiosity — 

“ Wait for me, however long my absence ; do not stir from here.’* 

Then, without waiting for the young man’s answer, he started at a gallop. Don 
Ruiz watched the black outline as it disappeared in the gloom ; he listened to the 
horse’s foot-falls so long as he could hear them, and then turned back and seated 
himself pensively at the fire. 

“ Poor Marianita ! ” he murmured, with a heart-rending outburst of pity. 

He bowed his head on his chest, and with pale and gloomy face awaited the 
return of Stronghand. 

Wc will take advantage of this delay to trace the ponraits of Don Ruiz de Moguer 
and his sLster Marianita. 


Strongfiandt 


ib 


Dona Mariana was a charming girl of about sixteen, graceful in her movemei’ts, 
with black, lustrous eyes. Her hair had the bluish tinge of the raven’s wing ; her 
skin, the warm and gilded hues of the sun of her country ; her glance, half ve led 
by her long brown eyelashes, was ardent ; her straight nose, with its pink flexible 
nostrils, was delicious ; her laughing mouth, with its bright red lips, gave her face 
an expression of simple, ignorant candour. Her movements, soft and indolent, had 
that indescribable languor and serpentine undulation alone posses-ed in so e ninent 
a degree by the women of Lima and Mexico, those daughters of the sun in whose 
veins flows the molten lava of the volcanoes instead of blood. In a word, she was 
a Spanish girl from head to foot — but Andalusian before all. 

Physically, Don Ruiz was, as a man, the same as his sister was a woman. He 
was a thorough gentleman, and scarce four years older than Dona Mariana. He 
was tall and well-built, but his elegant and aristocratic form denoted great personal 
strength. His regular features bore an unmistakable stamp of distinction ; his 
black eye had a frank and confident look ; his mouth, whic’i was rather large, but 
adorned with splendid teeth and fringed by a fine brown moustache coquettishly 
turned up, still retained the joyous, careless smile of youth. 

Brother and sister, who, with the exception of a few almost imperceptible 
variations, had the most perfect physical liKcness, also resembled each other morally. 
Both were equally ignorant of things of the world. 

Hence, Dona Mariana had felt a great delight and great impatience to quit the 
convent when Don Ruiz, in obedience to his father’s commands, came to fetch her. 
This impatience obliged Don Ruiz not to consent to wait for an escort. It was an 
imprudence thr.<t caused the misfortunes we have described. He cursed the weakness 
that had made him yield to the whims of a girl, and accused himself of being, 
through his weakness, the sole cause of the frightful dangers from which she had 
only escaped by a miracle. 

Still the hours, which never stop, continued to follow each other slowly. The sun 
bad lisen, and its presence on the horizon immediately dissipated the darkness and 
heated the ground, which was chilled by the abundant and icy dew of morning. 

Dona Marianita, aroused by the singing of the thousands of birds concealed 
beneath the foliage, opened her eyes with a smile. The calm sleep she had enjoyed 
for several hours restored not only her strength, but also her courage and gaieiy. 
I'he girl’s first glance was for her brother, who, anxious and uneasy, was attentively 
watching her slumbers. 

“ Oh, Ruiz,’* she said, in her melodious voice, “ what a glorious sleep I have 
had 1” 

“ Really, sister,” he exclaimed gladly, kissing her, ” you have slept well.” 

“ That is to say,” she continued, with a smile, “ that at the convent I never 
passed so delicious a night, accompanied by such charming dreams ; but it is true 
there were two of you to watch over my slumbers.” 

” Yes, sister, there were two of us.” 

” What ? ” she asked in surprise. ” You were , what do you mean, 

Ruiz ? ” 

” Wliat I say ; nothing else, dear sister.” 

” But I do not see the Caballero to whom we owe so great an obligation.” 

” About two hours ago he mounted his horse and left me, telling me not to stir 
firom here till his return.” 

“ In that case I am quite easy. His absence alarmed me ; but now that I know 
he will return ” 

“Do you believe so?” he interrupted. 

• Why should I doubt it ? ” she continued ; ” did he not promise to return ? 

“ Certainly.’* 


The Bivouac, 


i7 


“ Well, a Caballero never breaks his word. He said he would come, and he will 
come.” 

“ Heaven grant it ! ” Don Ruiz muttered. 

And he shook his head sadly, and gave a profound sigh. The maiden felt herself 
involuntarily assailed by anxiety. 

“ Come, Ruiz,” she said, turning very pale, “ explain yourself. What has 
happened } ” 

“ Nothing beyond what you know, sister. Still, in spite of this man’s promise, I 
know not why, but I fear. He is a strange being — at one moment kind, at another 
cruel — changing his character, and almost his face, momciuanly. He frightens 
and repels, and yet attracts and interests me.” 

“ I do not understand you, Ruiz. What means this confusion in your ideas ? 
Why this stern and strange judgment of a man whom you do not know ? ” 

While Don Ruiz was preparing to answer the gallop of a horse became audible. 

Silence, brother ! ” she exclaimed ; “ silence ! here he comes I ” 

The young man looked at his sister in amazement. 

“ How do you know it ? ” he asked her. 

“ I have recognised him,” she stammered, with a deep blush. “ Stay — look ! ” 

In fact, at this moment the shrubs parted, and Stronghand appeared in the open 
^pace. Without dismounting, Stronghand, after bowing couiteously to the young 
lady, said, hurriedly — 

” To horse 1 — to horse 1 Make haste ! Time presses ! ” 

In a few minutes the two young people were riding by the hunter’s side. 

” Let us start,” the latter continued. ” Cuerpo de Cristo, Caballero, I warned you 
that you were doing an imprudent action in liberating that villain.” 

These words sufficed to give the fugitives wings, and they started at full gallop 
after the bold woodranger. An hour elapsed ere a word was exchanged between 
the three persons ; bent over the necks of tlieir steeds, they devoured space. About 
eight o’clock in the. morning Stronghand checked his horse and made a sign to his 
companions to stop. 

“ Now,” he said, ” we have nothing more to fear. When we have crossed that 
wood, which stretches out in front of us like a curtain of verdure, we shall see the 
fort of San Miguel.” 

” Last night I fancied that you spoke of a more distant post,” Don Ruiz said. 

” Yes ; for I fancied San Miguel abandoned. Before 1 gave you what might 
prove a fa’lacious hope I wished to assure myself of the truth.” 

“ Do you believe that the commandant will receive us ? ” the young lady asked. 

Certainly, senorita, for a thousand reasons. In the first place, the frontier posts 
are only established for the purpose of watching over the safety of travellers ; and 
then, again, San Miguel is commanded by one of your relations.” 

“ Do you know this commandant’s name ? ” Don Ruiz asked. 

“ I was t' Id it ; he is Don Marcos de Niza.” 

“ Oh ! ” Dona Mariana exclaimed, joyfully, “ Don Marcos is a cousin of 
ours. 

” In that case all is for the best,” the hunter answered, coldly. ” Let us continue 
our journey, for there is a cloud of dust behind us that forebodes us no good.” 

1‘he young people resumed their gallop and entered the little fort. 

” Look ! ” Stronghand said to Don Ruiz and his sister the moment the gate 
closed upon them. They turned back. A numerous band of horsemen issued from 
the wood at this moment, uttering ferocious yells. ,, 

” This is the second time you have saved our lives»” Dona Mariana said to the 
partizan. 

“ Why count them, senorita?” he replied, witti sadness i “ do I do so?** 


?8 


StroJighand. 


The maiden gave him a look of undefinable meaning, and turned her cad away 
with a blush. 

The post of San Miguel is composed of four square pavilions, connected together 
by covered ways, the inner walls of which surround a courtyard planted with 
I'emon-trees, peach-trees, and algarobes. On this court opens the room intended for 
travellers, barracks, &c. The outer walls have only one issue, and are provided 
with loopholes, which can only be reached by mounting a platform eight feet high 
and three wide. All the masonry is constructed of adobes, or unburnt bricks. 

Twenty feet beyond this wall is another, formed of cactuses planted very closely 
together, and having their branches intertwined. The only entrance to it is a heavy 
gate supported by posts securely bedded in the ground. The soldiers, standing at 
the loopholes of the second wall, fire in perfect shelter, and command the space 
above the cactuses. 

On the approach of the Indians, when the Mexican moon is at hand — that is to 
say, the invariable season of their invasions — the sparse dwellers on the border seek 
refuge inside San Miguel, and there in complete safety wait till their enemies are 
weary of a siege. 

Don Marcos de Niza was a man of about forty, short and plump, but withal 
active and quick. His regular features displayed a simplicity of character, marked 
with intelligence and decision. He w^as one of those educated honest professional 
officers of whom the Mexican army unfortunately counts too few in its ranks* 


CHAPTER TV. 

THE POST OF SAN MIGUELi 

As the honour of commanding one of the border forts like San Miguel is not coveted 
by the brilliant officers accustomed to clatter their sabres on the stones of the palace 
ivi Mexico, it is generally only given to brave soldiers who have no prospect of 
promotion. 

Informed by a cabo, or corporal, of the names of the guests who thus suddenly 
arrived, the captain rose to meet them with 0 [>en arms. 

“ Oh ! ” he exclaimed, “ this is a charming surprise. 1 am delighted to see 
you.” 

“ Do not thank us Don Marcos,” Dona Mariana answered, smilingly. ** We 
have only come to ask shelter and protection of you.” 

“ You have them already. Rayo de Dios 1 are we not relations ?” 

” Without doubt, cousin,” Don Ruiz said ; “ hence, in our misfortune, it is a 
great happiness to us to come across you.” 

“ Hilloh 1 you have something serious to tell me,” the captain continued. 

“ So serious,” the young man said, with a bow to the partizan, “ that had it not 
been for the help o* this Caballero we should be lying dead in the desert.” 

“Oh, my poor children ! Come, dismount and follow me j you must need rest, 
Cabo Heinandez, take charge of the horses.” 


The Post of San Miguel, 


rp 


The corporal took the horses, and the young people followed the captain. Don 
Marcos pressed the hunter’s hand and made him a sign to follow them. 

“ There,” he said, after introducing his guests into a room modestly furnished^ 
sit down, children.” 

Refreshments had been prepared on the table. While the young people enjoyed 
them, the captain quitted them, and went with the hunter into another room. So 
sojn as they were alone the two men became serious, and the joy that illumined the 
captain’s face was suddenly extinguished. 

Well,” he asked Stronghand, ” what news ? ” 

“ Bad,” he answered, distinctly. 

I expected it,” the officer muttered, with a toss of the head; ‘<we must push 
out into the savannah, in order to prove to these bandits that we are able to punish 
them.” 

1'he hunter shook his head several times. The captain looked at him for some 
minutes. 

” What is the matter, my friend ? ” he at length asked him ; “ 1 never saw you 
so gloomy before.” 

‘‘ Because,” he answered, “ circumstances have never been so serious.” 

*‘ Explain yourself, my friend. With the exception of a few insignificant 
marauders, the borders have never appeared to me so quiet.” 

” It is a deceitful calm, Don Marcos, which conceals a tempest.” 

” And yet our spies say that the Indians are not at all thinking of an expedition 
at present.” 

‘ It proves that your spies betray you, that’s all.” 

” Possibly so; but still I should like some proof or sign.” 

” I am enabled to give you the most positive information. But is your gariison 
wrong ? ” 

” Sixty or seventy, about.” 

” In time of peace, enough ; but under present circumstances I repeat to you that 
fliey are not enough, and you will soon agree with me. You must send off a courier 
to ask for a reinforcement of from one hundred and fifty to two hundred men. Do 
not deceive yourself, captain.” 

” Thanks for the hint. But where are the urgent reasons for doing so ? ” 

“As you please, captain; you are the commandant of the post, and your 
esponsibility must urge you to prudence. I will therefore abstain from making 
ny further observations on the subject.” 

” Y ou are annoyed, and wrongly so, my friend ; the responsibility to which you 
fer demands that 1 should not let myself be led by vague runiours. Give me the 
xplanation I expect of you.” 

** I wish for nothing more than to satisfy you ; so listen to me.” 

At this moment the room-door opened, and Corporal Hernandez appeared. 
The captain, annoyed at being thus inopportunely disturbed, turned sharply 
round. 

” Well, corporal,” he said, ” what the fiend do you want now ? ” 

” Excuse me, captain,” the poor fellow said, ” but the lieutenant sent me.” 

” Well, what does the lieutenant want t Speak I but be brief.” 

” Captain, the sentry has seen a large party of horsemen coming at full gallop 
towards the fort.” 

” Eh,” said the captain, looking uneasily at the hunter, “ were you in the right ? 
and is this troop the vanguard ot the enemy you threaten us with } ” 

“This troop,” the hunter answered, with an equivrical smile, “has been following 
Don Ruiz and myself since the morning.” 

“ What is the lieutenant’s opinion about these scamps ? ” the captain asked. 


20 


StroJighand, 


“ They are too far off yet, and too hidden by the dust they raise, captain, for it to 
be possible to recognise them,” the non-commissioned officer replied. 

“ That is true. We had better look for ourselves. Will you come ? ” 

“ I should think so,” the hunter said, as he seized his rifle ; and they went 
out. 

Don Ruiz and his sister were talking together, while doing ample justice to the 
refreshments placed at tlieir disposal. On seeing the captain, tiie young man 
rose. 

” Cousin,” he said to him, with a bow, ” I hear that you are on the point of being 
attacked ; and as it is to some extent my cause you are going to defend — for the 
bandits who thieaten you at this moment are allies of those with whom I had a 
fight last night — pray allow me to fire a shot by your side.” 

“ Viva Dios ! Most heartily, my dear cousin,” the captain answered, gaily. 
“ That’s a fine fellow 1 ” he whispered in the hunter’s ear. 

1'he latter made no answer. He contented himself with shrugging his shoulders. 

“ Oh I ” Dona Mariana exclaimed, “ Ruiz, what are you going to do ? Stay 
with me, I implore you, brother 1 ” 

“ Impossible, sister,” the young man answered, as he kissed her ; ” what would 
our cousin think of me were I to skulk here when fighting was going on ? ” 

” Fear nothing, nina ; I am answerable for your brother,” said the captain. 

The girl sat down again sadly on the butacca from which she had risen, and the 
©ur men then left the room and proceeded to the patio, or court. Here everybody 
was busy. The lieutenant, an old experienced soldier, with a grey moustache and 
hce furrowed by sabre-cuts, and whose whole life had been spent on the borders, 
had not lost time. While, by his order, Corporal Hernandez warned the captain, be 
had ordered the “ fall-in ” to be beaten, had placed the best shots at the loopholes, 
and made all arrangements to avoid a surprise. 

When the captain set foot in the court he stopped, saw at a glance the wise and 
intelligent arrangements made by his lieutenant, and a smile of satisfaction spread 
over his futures. 

“ And now,” he said, “ let us go and see who the enemy is.” 

” It is unnecessary, tor I can tell you, captain,” the hunter replied ; ” they are the 
pirates.” 

“ Pirates 1” Don Marcos exclaimed, in amazement. “ What I those villains 
would dare ” 

“ Alone, certainly not,” interrupted Stronghand, “ but with the certainty of being 
supported by the Indians, of whom they are only the vanguard. However, unless I 
am greatly mistaken their attack will not be serious, and their object is probably to 
discover in what state of defence the post is. Receive them, then, in such a way as 
to leave them no doubt on this head.” 

“ You arc right,” said the captain. “ Viva Dios ! they shall have their answer.” 

He then gave the corporal an order in a low voice. For some minutes a deep 
silence prevailed in the fort. The moments that immediately precede a contest are 
solemn indeed. 

All at once horrible yells were heard, mingled with the furious galloping of many 
horses, and then the enemy appeared, leaning over the necks of their steeds, and 
brandishing their weapons with an air of defiance. When they came within pistol- 
shot, the word to fire was given from the walls, and a general discharge burst forth 
like a clap of thunder. 

'i he horsemen fell into confusion, and turned back precipitately and in the greatest 
disorder, followed by the Mexican bullets, which, directed by sure eyes, made great 
ravages in their ranks at every step. Still they had not fled so fast but that they 
iould be recognised for wiiat they really were — that is, pirates of the prairies. Half 


The Post of San Miguel, 


21 


*iaked for the most part, and without saddles, they brandished their rifles and long 
lances, and excited their horses by terrific yells. 

Two or three individuals, probably chiefe, with their heads covered by a species o^ 
turban, were noticeable through their ragged uniforms, doubtless torn off murdered 
soldiers ; their repulsive dirt and ferocious appearance inspired the deepest disgust. 
No doubt was possible : these wretches were certainly whites and half-breeds. 

After a rather long race they stopped to hold counsel, out of ranj^eof the firearms. 
They were at this moment joined by a second band. The two bands united 
might possibly amount to one hundred and fifty horsemen. 

Aftei a rather long discussion the pirates started again, and stopped at the very 
foot of the walls. Captain Niza, wishing to inflict a severe chastisement on them, 
had given orders not to fire, but to let them do as they pleased. Hidden by the 
thick cactus hedge, the bandits had suddenly become invisible ; but the Mexicans, 
confiding in tiie strength of their position and the solidity of the posts and gates, 
felt no fear. 

Reassured by the silence of the garrison, some thirty pirates, among whom were 
several of their chiefs, escaladed the great gate in turn, and rushed towards the 
second wall. Unluckily for the success of their plan, the wall was too lofty to be 
cleared in the same way ; some sought stones and posts to beat in the second gate; 
while others tried, though in vain, to open the one they had so easily scaled. 

1'he Mexicans could distinctly hear the pirates in the second enceinte explaining 
to their comrades the difficulty they experienced in penetrating into the fort. The 
latter then t irew their reaZa^, which, caught upon the posts, were tightened hy the 
combined efforts of the men and horses, and seemed on the point of pulling the 
gate off its hinges. 

“ What are you waiting for? ” Don Ruiz whispered in the commandant’s ear. 

“ There are not enough yet in the trap,” he answered ; “ let them come.” 

In fact, as if the bandits had wished to obey the old soldier, some twenty more 
clambered over the gate, so that there were fifty of the pirates between the cactus 
and the stone wall. But, all at once, every loop-hole was lit up by a sinister flash, 
and the bullets began showering uninterruptedly on the wretches, who, through 
their own position, found it impossible to answer the fire of the Mexicans. Recog- 
nising the fault they had committed, and the trap they had so stupidly entered, 
the pirates became demoralised, fear seized upon them, and they only thought of 
flight. 

The Mexicans, jntiless in their vengeance, fired incessantly on the wretches, some 
of whom, by crawling on their hands and knees, succeeded in reaching the foot of 
the wall below the loop-holes. Of fifty bandits who had scaled the gate fourteen 
Etill lived ; the others were dead. 

“Ha I ha I ’’said the captain, rubbing his hands gleefully. “I fancy that the 
les-^on will be useful.” 

But, on the reiterated entreaties of Don Ruiz, the worthy commandant, who in 
Iiis heart was not cruel, consented to ask the survivors if they were willing to 
surrender, a proposition which the pirates greeted with yells of rage and defiance. 
These fourteen men, though their rifles were discharged, were not enemies to despise. 

Still there must be an end to it. At an order from the captain the gate of the 
second wall was suddenly opened, and some twenty horsemen charged at full gallop 
the bandits, who, far from recoiling, awaite 1 them with a firm foot. The melet 
L’ , was terrible, but short. Three Mexicans were killed, arid five wounded ; but the 
pirates fell never to rise again. 

Only one of them — profiting by the disorder and the attention which the soldiers 
remaining at the loop-holes paid to the fight — succeeded by a miracle of resolution 
and strength in scaling the wall and flying. Tnis pirate, the only one who escaped 


22 


Stronghand. 


the massacre, was Kidd. On reachingf the plain he stopped for a second, turned to 
the fort with a gesture of menace and deftince, and, leaping on a riderless iiuisc^ 
went otf amid a shower of bullets, not one of which struck him. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE STAY IN THE FOREST. 

When the fight was over, and order restored at the post, the captain bade his lieu- 
tenant have the bodies lying on the battle-field picked up and hung by the feet 
to the trees on the plain, so that they might become the prey of wild beasts, though 
not until they had been decapitated. The heads were to remain exposed on the 
walls of the fort. 

Then, when all these orders had been given, the commandant returned to his 
residence, where Don Ruiz had already preceded him in order to reassure his sister 
as to the result of the fight. Don Marcos was radiant ; he had gained a great 
advantage — at least he thought so — over the border ruffians. 

Unfortunately, the woodi anger was not of the same opinion : each time the 
captain smiled and lubbed his hands at the recollection of some episode in the fight, 
Stronghand shook his head sadly. 

“ What’s the matter with you now ? ’* asked the commandant. “ You are, on my 
soul, the most extraordinary man I know. Nothing satisfies you. Hang it ! 1 do 
not know how to treat you. Did we not give those scoundrels a remarkable tiirasli- 
ing, ch?” 

“I allow it,” the hunter replied, laconically. 

** It is lucky you allow so much. And yet they fought bravely, 

“ Yes ; and it is that which frightens me.” 

“ 1 do not understand you.” 

“ Was I not giving you important information when we were interrupted? ** 

"That is to say, you were going to give it me.” 

" Yes ; and with your permission, now that we have no fear of being interrupted 
for a while, 1 will impart the news to you.” 

“ I ask nothing better ; but I suppose the ddeat the pirates have experienced 
must deprive the news of much importance.” 

" The pirates play but a very small part in what I have to tell you.” 

" Speak then 1 I know that you are too earnest to amuse yourself at my expense.** 

"You shall judge for yourself the perils of the situation in which you may find 
yourself at any moment.” 

The two men seated themselves, and the commandant, who was more excited 
tiian he wished to show, made the hunter a sign to commence. 

"About two months ago,” the latter began, "I was at the Presidio of San 
Estevan. This presidis, which, as you know, is about two days’ jouincy frooi hi»& 
is very important.” 

Tile captain gave a nod of as sent. 


The Stay in the Forest, 




“ I am,” the hunter continued, “ on rather intimate terms with Don Gregorio 
Ochova, the colonel commanding the presidio. You know the savageness of my 
character, and the species of instinctive repulsion with which anything resembling a 
town inspires me ; hence, I need hardly say that no sooner was my business ended 
than I made preparations to depart. I did not like going away without saying 
good-bye to the colonel, so I went to his house. I found him in a state of extreme 
agitation, walking up and down. On seeing me, he uttered an exclamation of 
delight, and exclaimed ; 

“ * Oh, Stronghand ! where on earth have you been hiding ? I have been seeking 
you everywhere for the last two hours, and have put a dozen soldiers at your heels.* 
“ ‘You were seeking for me, Don Gregorio ! ’ I cried ‘ 1 assure you that I was close 
to you, and very easy to find.' 

“ ‘ It seems no\ But here you are — that is the main point. Do you think about 
making any stay at San Estevan.^’ 

“ ‘No, colonel,* 1 answered : ‘ my affairs are settled ; I intend to start to-morrow, 
and 1 have just come to say good-bye, and thank you for your hospitality.* 

“ * Good ! ’ he said, eagerly ; ‘ that is all for the best ; but,’ he added, taking my 
hand in a kindly way, ‘ do not suppose that it is my desire to see you depart that 
makes me speak thus.’ 

‘ I am convinced of the contrary,’ I remarked, with a bow. 

“ He cont nued: ‘ You can, Stronghand, do me a great service.* 

“ ‘ I am at your command.’ 

‘“This is the matter,' he said. ‘ For some days past the most alarming reports 
have been spreading through the presidio.* 

“ ‘ And what may they be ? ’ I asked. 

“ ‘ It is said that the Indians, laying aside for a moment their private hatreds, and 
forgetting their quarrels to think only of the hereditary hatred they entertain for us, 
are combining to attempt a general attack on the posts, which they intend to 
destroy.’ 

“ ‘ The reports are serious,’ I remarked ; ‘ but nothing has yet happened to confirm 
their truth.' 

“ ‘ That is true ; but there is always a certain amount of truth in rumour.’ 

“ ‘ Is no nation mentioned by name ? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes ; more panicularly the Papayos — that is to say, the grand league of the 
Apaches, Axuas, Gilenos, Comanches, Mayos, and Opatas. But the more serious 
thing is, always according to the report, that the white and half-breed marauders 
on the border are leagued with them.’ 

“ ‘ This is serous,’ I answered ; ‘ but pardon me, colonel j what do you purpose 
doing t j make head against the danger ? ’ 

“ ‘d'hat is exactly whv I want you, my friend.* 

*‘ ‘ I am ready to do an\ thing that depends on myself to oblige you.* 

“ ‘ I was certain of that answer, my friend. You understand that I cannot remain 
thus surrounded by vague rumours and terrors. During the last few weeks, especially, 
vari.-us serious events have given a ceitain consistency to these rumours — travellers 
have been murdered, and valuable waggon-trains plundered. It is time for th^s 
state of things to cease, and for us to know definitely the truth or falsehood of the 
rumours ; for this purpose I require a brave, devoted man.’ 

“ ‘ I understand what you want, colonel,' I interrupted ; ‘ seek no f urther, for I 
am the man you stand in need of. To-morrow at sunrise I will start.' 

“ The colonel thanked me warmlv, and the next morning I set out.’’ 

“ Well,’’ the captain exclaimed, “and what information have you picked up ? ** 
“This information,” the hunter answered, “ is of a nature far more serious than any 
rumour. The situation is most critical, and not a moment must be lost. I was 


*4 


StroTJghand, 


poin^ to San Estevan, where Colonel Don Gregorio must be awaiting my return 
with impatience, when I thougtit of seeing whether the post of San Miguel which 
had been so long unoccupied had received a garrison.” 

“ A month ago,” said the captain, “ Don Gregorio ordered me to come here and 
hold my ground, though he did not infoim me of the motives.’ 

“ Well ; now you know the reasons.” ^ 

“ Yes ; and I thank you. Between ourselves, are matters so serious ? ” 

“ A hundred times m^rc so than you think. I have traversed the desert in every 
direction ; I have been ] resent at the meetings of the chiefs — in a word, I know 
every detail of the expedition.” 

“ riva Dios ! I will not let myself be surprised — be at your ense about that— 

but you were right in advising me to ask for help, so I will immediately ” 

“bo not take the trouble,” the hunter interrupted; “I will act as your ex- 
press.” 

“ What ! are you going to leave us at once? ’* 

“I must, my dear captain ; for I have to give Don Gregorio an account of th? 
mission he confided to me.” 

“True. In spite of the pleasure I should feel in keeping you by me, I am 
compelled to let you 20 . When do you start ? ” 

“ This moment. My horse has rested ; there are still some hours of daylight 
left, and I wi 1 take advantage of them ? ” 

He made a movement to leave the room. 

“ You have not said good-bye to Don Ruiz and his sister,” the captain observed. 
The hunter stopped, his brows contracted, and he seemed to be reflecting. 

“No,” he said: “I should lose too much precious time. You will make my 
apologies to them, captain. Moreover,” he added, with a bitter smile, “ our aquaint- 
ance is not sufficiently long, I fancy, for Don Ruiz and his sister to attach any great 
importance to my movements.” 

“ I will not press you,” the captain r-nswered | “ do as you please.” 

Five minutes later the hunter was mounted. 

” Do not fail to report to the colonel,” Don Marcos said, “ what happened here to- 
daj ; and, above all, ask for assistance.” 

“ All right, captain ; and do not go to sleep.” 

“ Carai — I shall feel no inclination. So now, good-bye, and good luck. 

“ Good-bye, and many thanks.” 

They exchanged a last shake of the hand, the hunter galloped out into the plain, 
and the captain returned to his house, muttering to himself. 

“ What a strange man 1 Is he good or bad ? Who can say ? ” 

When the supper-h(,ur arrived, the two young people, astonished at the hunter’s 
absence, asked for him. When the captain told them of his departure, they felt 
grieved and hurt at his having gone without saying farewell ; and Dona Mariana 
especially was offended at such unaccountable behaviour on the part of a Caballero. 
Still they did not show their feelings. 

At the hour for retiring Don Ruiz, more than ever eager to rejoin his father, re- 
minded the captain of the offer of service he had made him, and asked for an escort 
in order to continue his journey on the morrow; but Don Marcos answered with a 
peremptory refusal. 

Don Ruiz asked an explanation of his cousin ; which he did not hesitate to give, 
by telling them of the conversation between himself and the hunter. Don Ruiz and 
his sister had been too near death to expose themselves again to the hazards of a 
long journey in the desert; still the young man, annoyed at this new delay, asked 
the captain at what period they might hope to regain their liberty. 

“ Oh 1 your seclusion will not be long,’’ the latter replied, with a smile ; “ so soon 


A Glance at the Past, 


*5 


as I have received the reinforcements 1 expect from San Estevan, I will pick you out 
an escort and you can be off.’* 

Don Ruiz, forced to satisfy himself with this promise, thanked him warmly ; and 
the young people ma le their arrangements to pass the week in the least wearisome 
way possible. 

I'he captain, justly alarmed by the news the hunter had given him, had made 
Vne best arrangements his resources allowed to resist any attack from the Indians, 
By his orders all the rancheros and small landowners established within a radius of 
fifteen leagues had been warned of an approaching invasion. 

The majority, recognising the gravity of this communication, hastened to pack up 
their furniture and most valuable articles; and driving before them their horses and 
cattle, hurried from all sides at once to the fort, witti a precipitation which proved the 
profound terror ihe Indians inspired them with. 

I'he captain organised this heterogeneous colony to the best of his ability. The 
women, children, and old men were sheltered under tents made of branches, to protect 
them from the morning dew, while all the men "^capable of bearing arms were 
trained, so as in case of attack to assist in the common defence. 

But this enormous increase of population required also an enormous stock of pro- 
visions ; and hence the captain sent out numerous patrols for the purpose of ;)rocuring 
corn and cattle. Don Ruiz took advantage of this to make excursions in the 
vicinity ; while his sister, in company with young girls of her own age, tried to 
forget, or rather cheat, the weariness of their seclusion. 

The appearance of the fort had completely changed, and ten days after the 
hunter’s departure had become a really formidable fortress. Large trenches had 
^been dug, and barricades erected ; but, unfortunately, the garrison, though numerous 
enough to resist a sudden attack, was too weak to sustain a long siege. 

One morning, at sunrise, the sentries signalised a thick cloud of dust advancing 
towards the post with the headlong speed of a whirlwind. The alarm was 
immediately given, the walls were lined with soldiers, and preparations were made 
to resist the enemy. 

Suddenly, on coming within gunshot, the horsemen halted, the dust dispersed, 
and the garrison perceived with delight that the men wore the Mexican uniform. 
A quarter of an hour later eighty lanceros, each carrying an infantry-man behind 
him, entined the foit, amid the deafening shouts of the garrison. 


CHAPTER V!. 

A GLANCE AT THE PAST, 

Im Spanish America, and more especially in Peru and Mexict^ all the creoles of 
the pure white breed taiscly pretend to be descended in a straight line from the hrst 
conquistadors. 

Still there are in America some families, very few in number, it is true, which can 
justly boast of this glorious origin. 


Stronghand» 


a6 


A few leagues from Arispe, the old capital of the Intendancy of Sonora, but now 
greatly fallen, and only a second-class city, there stands, like an eagle’s nest, on the 
summit of an abrupt rock, a magnificent showy mansion. 

This fortress-palace — which dates from the first days of the conquest, and whose 
antiquity is written on its walls, which have seen so many bullets flatten, so many 
arrows break against them, but which time, that grand destroyer of the most solid 
things, is gradually crumbling away by a continuous effort, under the triple 
influence of the air, the sun, and rain — has never changed masters since the day of 
its construction. 

The family is one of those to which we just now referred, whose origin dates back 
to the first conquerors, and whose name is Tobar de Moguer. 

In 1541 Don Antonio de Mendoca, viceroy of New Spam, organised the expedition 
to Cibola, a very mysterious country visited a few years previously by Alvaro 
Nunez. 

The expedition, consisting of 300 Spaniards and 800 Indian allies, started from 
Compostella on April 17, 1541, under the orders of Don Francisco Vasques Coronado. 
The officers nominated by the viceroy were all gentlemen of distinction ; among 
them, as standard-bearer, was Don Pedro de Tobar, whose father, Don Fernando de 
Tobar, had been majorJomo-major in the reign of Jane the Mad, mother of the 
Emperor Charles V. 

After innumerable fatigues the expedition reached Cibola, which, instead of being 
the rich and magnificent city they expected to see, was only a wretched insignificant 
village built on a rock. Still the Indians defended themselves bravely, and several 
Spaniards were wounded. 

The Spaniards, half discouraged by the extraordinary fatigue they were forced to • 
endure, and the continual deceptions that awaited them at every step, but still urged 
on by that spirit of adventure which never deserted them, resolved after the capture of 
Cibola to push further on and try their fortunes once again. Thus they reached, 
with extieme difficulty, the last country visited by the Cabeca de Vaca, to which he 
had giv^n the name of the Land of Hearts. 

On reaching this place the Spaniards halted and built a town, which they called" 
Senora, now Sonora, from which the province took its name. Don Pedro de Tamar 
distinguished himself very much, and, with seventeen horsemen and four foot soldiers, 
discovered and conquered the province of T utaliaco. 

Having married the daughter of Don Rodrigo Maldonado, he, twenty years after 
the expedition, accepted estates in Sonora, where he built a magnificent hacienda, 
called Del Toro, which had remained in the hands of the family ever since. 

On November 25, 181 1, the day on which we begin this narrative, the insurgents 
had not yet been conquered at Calderon ; on the contrary, their steps had been marked 
by successes; from all sides Indians came to range themselves beneath their banner, 
and their army, badly disciplined, it is true, but full of enthusiasm, amounted to 
80,000 men. 

About two in the afternoon, that is to say, the time in these climates when the 
heat is most oppressive, a horseman, mounted on a magnificent mustang, was 
following at a gallop the banks of a small stream, half dried up by the torrid heal 
of the southern sun. 

This rider appeared to be about twenty-five years of age; his features were 
handsome, his glance proud, and the expression of his face haughty, although 
marked with kindness and courtesy. He was tall and well built; his gestures, 
which were pleasing though not stiff, indicated a man who, through his position in 
the world, was accustomed to a certain deference and to win the respect of those 
who surrounded him. 

This horseman, who had left Arispe at sunrise, had been travelling without stop* 


A Glance at the Past, 


27 


ping or appearing to notice the stifling heat that made the perspiration run down his 
ciieeks, so deep was he in thought. On reaching a spot where the track he was fol- 
lowing turned sharply to the left his horse suddenly stopped. 

He was at the foot of the rock on the summit of which stands the Hacienda del 
Toro in all its gloomy majesty. For some minutes he gazed with an expression of 
regret and sorrow at these frowning buildings, which doubtless recal'ed happy 
memories. He shook his head several times, a sigh escaped from his over-bur* 
dened chest, and, seeming to form a supieme resolution, he said, in a choking voice, 
“ I will go ; ” and letting his horse feel the spur, he began slowly scaling the 
narrow path that ’ed to the summit of the rock and the hacienda-gate. 

When he reached the hacienda-gate it was open and the drawbridge lowered ; 
but though he was evidently expected, there was no one to bid him welcome. 

“ It must be so,” he murmured. “ I return to my paternal roof a fugitive — 
accursed.” 

He crossed the drawbridge, the planks of which re-echoed his horse’s footfall, 
and entered the first courtyard. Here he dismounted, saying, in a low, concentrated 
voice — 

“ Wait for me, my poor Bravo; you, too, are regarded in this place as an accursed 
one.” 

The noble animal, as if understanding its master’s words and sharing in his grief, 
turned its delicate, intelligent head towards him, and gave a soft and plaintive whine. 
At the end of the court two men were standing on the first step of a magnificent 
marble staircase. 

On seeing these two men the young horseman drew h’mself up; his face assumed 
a gloomy and ironical expression, and he walked rapidly towards them. 

” The marquis is waiting for you, Senor Conde,” one of them said. 

“Very g( od,” the strange visitor answered; “one of you can announce my 
arrival to I is lordship my father.” 

The two men bowed a second time, and, with heads still uncovered, preceded the 
young man, who followed with a firm and measured tread. On reaching the top 
of the steps, one of the servants hurried forward, while the second, slightly checking 
his speed, continued to guide the horseman. 

“ Oh, my young master 1 ” he suddenly said, in a voice broken by emotion, “ what 
a misfortune 1 ” 

“ What ? ” the young man asked, anxiously ; “ has anything happened — is my 
lady mother ill ? ” 

The old servant shook his head sadly. “ No,” he answered ; “ Heaven be 
blessed ! both are in good health : but why did you leave the paternal mansion, your 
lordship ? ” 

“ What has happened so terrible during my absence, Perote ? ” 

“ Does not your excellency know ? ” the servant asked. 

“ How should I know, my friend? ’’ he answered, mildly. 

“ That is true, excellency ; forgive me, I had forgotten it.” 

“ Recover yourself, my good fellow,” the young man said, kindly. “ I know how 
much you love me. You have not forgotten that your wife, poor Juana, nourished 
me with her milk. But I know nothing ; am even ignorant why my father ordered 
me so suddenly to come hither.’’ 

“ Alas 1 excellency,” said the old servant, “ I am myself ignorant why you have 
been brought here ; but Hernando may know.’’ 

“ Ah I ’’ said the young man, with a nervous start, “ my brother is here, then? ” 
Did you not know it ? ” 

Have I not told you that I am utterly ignorant of everything ? ’’ 

** Yes, yes, excellency. Don Hernando is here, and has been here a long time.** 


Stronghand, 


a8 


Heaven guard me from saying anything against my master’s son ; but take care, 
sir, for Don Hernando docs not love you.” 

” What do I care for my brother’s hatred ? ” said the young man. “ Am I not 
the elder son } ” 

” Y es, yes,’’ the old servant repeated, ” you are the elder son ; and yet your 
brother commands here as mas’er.” 

“ Perote,’’ said the young man, affectionately, ” what is the motto of my 
family ? ” 

” What do you mean, excellency ? ” the man-servant asked. 

“You do not remember it,” the young man cont nucd ; “ then I will repeat it to 
you. 'Phe motto is : ‘ Everything for honour, no matter what may happen.’ That 
motto dictates my conduct.” 

“ Oh, your excellency, once again take care. I am only a poor servant, but I 
tremble as to what may happen.’’ 

“ Do not be anxious, my old friend,” he answered, with an expression of haughty 
pride, full of nobleness. “ Whatever may happen, I will remember not only what I 
owe to the memory of my ancestors, but a so wliat I owe to myself. But let us not 
delay any longer. His lordship must be inform. d of my arrival, and the slight 
eagerness I seem to display in proceeding to him and obeying his orders will 
probably be interpreted to my injury by the man who has for so many years con- 
spired my ruin.” 

“ Yes, you are right : we have delayed too long as it is.” 

“ Where are you talcing me ? ” the young man remarked. “ My father’s apart- 
ments are not situated in this part of the hacienda.” 

“ I am not leading your excellency to them,” he answered, sorrowfully, 

“ Where to, then?” he asked, stopping in surprise. 

** To the red room,’’ the old servant remarked, in a low voice, 

“ Oh 1 oh ! ” the young man muttered. 

Perote only answered by a deep and prolonged sigh. 


CHAPTER Vir. 

THB FAMILY TRIBUNAL, 

The Hacienda del Toro, like many feudal mansions, contained one room which 
remained constantly closed and was only opened on solemn occasions. 

This room, situated at the end of the hacienda, was a large hall of oblong 
shape, paved with alternate large black and white slabs, and lighted by h ur lofty 
windows. 

'I'he young Count de Tobar had never entered this room since the day of his birth; 
and, however far back his thoughts reverted in childhood, he never remembered to 
have seen it open. Hence, in spite of all his courage, and the firmness with which 
he haa thought it wise to arm himself for this decisive interview with his father, he 
could not restrain a slight stan of fear. 


The Family Tribunal, 


29 


The folding doors were open, and on reaching the threshold the young men took 
in the room at a single glance. At one end, on a dais covered with a petate, the 
Marquis and Marchioness of Tobar were seated, gloomy and silent, beneath a canopy 
ot black velvet with gold fringe and tassels. 

At the foot of the dais, and almost touching it, stood a young man of three or four 
and twenty, with handsome and distinguished features, whose elegant attire con- 
trasted with the simple dress of the aged couple. This gentleman was Don Her- 
nando de 'I'obar, younger son of the marquis. 

“ El Senor Conde, Don Rodolfo de Tobar y Moguer,” said the guide, in a loud and 
maiked voice. 

“ Show in the count,” the marquis said, in a voice which was still powerful. 

The man-servant retired, and the door closed upon him. The count walked up to 
the foot of the dais. On reaching it he bowed a second time, then drew himself up, 
and respectfully waited. 

So profound a silence prevailed for some minutes in the room that the hearts of the 
four persons might have been heard beating in their bosoms. Don Hernando took 
tunning side-glances at his brother, whom the aged couple examined with a mixture 
of sadness and severity. 

“ You have arrived, then, Senor Conde,” the marquis at length said, sharply. 

The young man bowed, but did not answer. 

Y ou did not display any great eagerness in obeying my invitation.’* 

” My lord, I only received your letter late last night,” the count answered, gently. 
“ This morning before sunrise I mounted my horse, and rode twenty leagues with- 
out stopping.’* 

“ Yes,” the marquis said, ironically, know that; for you are a most obedient 
son — in words.” 

‘‘ Excuse me, my lord,’’ he replied, respectfully, *‘ but I do not understand to what 
lou allude,” 

“ It is because we probably no longer speak the same language,” said the old 
gentleman, drily. 

There was a silence, during which the marquis seemed to be reflecting. 

“ You are the elder son of the family, sir,” he presently continued, “ and, as such, 
responsible for its honour.” 

*‘ I am, my lord.” 

” Since your birth your sainted mother and myself have striven to place before you 
only examples of loyalty ; during your childhood we took pleasure in training you 
in all the chivalrous virtues which for a long succession of centuries have been the 
dearest appanage of our race. We continuously kept before your eyes the noble 
motto of our family, of which it is so justly proud. How is it then, sir, that, sud- 
denly forgetting what you owe to our care and the lessons you received from us, you 
abandon the paternal roof and become a perfect stranger ? ” 

” My lord,” the young man stammered. 

” It is not an accusation I bring against you, Don Rodolfo,** the marquis con- 
tinued, quickly; “but I expect a frank and honourable explanation of your con- 
duct.” 

“ My lord,*’ the count answered, throwing up his head proudly, “my heart re- 
proaches me with nothing. My object in obeying your orders so eagerly has not 
been to justify myself, but to assure you of my respect and obedience.” 

“ I expected another answer from you, sir,” the marquis continued. I hoped 
to find you eagerly seize the opportunity my kindness offered you to justify your- 
self.” 

“ My lord,” the young man replied, respectfully, order that ajustiffcati^ 
may be possible, i must know the charges brought against mc»” 


30 


Stronghand, 


“ 1 will not press this subject for the present ; but I wish to give you an imme* 
diate opportunity to prove your obedience to me.” 

“ Oh, speak, father 1 ” the count exclaimed, warmly ; “ whatever you ask ” 

** Do not be overhasty in pledging yourself,” said the marquis, ” before you know 
what I ask.” 

I shall be so happy to prove my obedience.” 

Be it so, sir. I thank you for those excellent feelings ; hence I will not delay in 
telling you what you must do.” 

“ Speak, speak, my lord ! ” 

” My son,” the marquis continued, with a slight tinge of sadness in his voice, 

your mother and I are growing old ; each step brings us nearer the tomb.” 

Oh, father ! ” Don Rodolfo exclaimed. 

Do not interrupt me, my son,” the marquis continued. You are our first-born, 
the hope of our name and race ; you are four-and-twenty years of age ; you are 
handsome ; in short, you are an accomplished cavalier, of whom we have just 
reason to be proud.” 

The marquis paused for a little while. Don Rodolfo felt himself growing more 
and more pale. His eyes turned wildly to his mother, who sorrowfully bowed her 
lead. 

" Your mother and I, my son,” the old man continued, ‘‘may be called away 
soon to appear before the Lord ; but by marrying you can secure the tranquillity 
»f the few days still left us to spend on this earth.” 

” Father ” 

‘'Oh, reassure yourself, count,” the old gentleman continued, pretending to mis- 
nnderstand his son’s meaning. ” I do not intend to force on you one of those mar- 
riages in which a couple united against their wish only too soon hate one another 
through the instinctive aversion they feel. No, the wife I intend for you has been 
chosen by your mother and myself with the greatest care. She is young, lovely, 
rich, and of a nobility almost equal to ours.” 

Father 1 ” Don Rodolfo stammered, again. 

“ My son 1 ” the marquis continued; ” my son, be happy, for you are about to 
marry Dona Aurelia del Torre Azul, cousin in the fifth degree to the Marquis del 
Valle.” 

“ Oh, my son,” the marchioness added, entreatingly, “ this alliance will soothe 
my last days.” 

The young man was of livid pallor. He tottered, his eyes wandered hesitatingly 
around. 

“ V ou know my will, sir,” the marquis continued ; “ I hope that you will soon 
conform to it. And now, as you must be fatigued after a long ride in the great 
heat of the day, withdraw to your apartments. To-morrow we will consult as to 
the means of introducing you to your future wife.” 

After utteiing these words, in the same cold and peremptory tone he employed 
during the whole interview, the marquis prepared to rise. 

By an effort over himself the young count succeeded in repressing the storm that 
was raging in his heart. Affecting a tranquillity he was far from feeling, he took a 
step forward and bowed respectfully to the marquis. 

** Pardon me, my lord,” he said, ” but may I say a few words now ? ” 

“ Did I not say to-morrow, sir ? ” answered the old gentleman. 

‘•Yes, my lord,” the young man answered, sadly; “but to-morrow may be too 
late.” 

“ Ah 1 ” said the marquis, biting his lips ; “ and for what reason, sir ? ” 

“ Because, father,” the young man said, firmly, “ to-morrow 1 shall have icft this 
house never to re-enter it.” 


The Family Trilunal, 




“ Ah, ah ! ” exclaimed the marquis, "then I was not deceived ; what I have been 
told is really true.” 

" What have you been told ? ” 

" Do you wish to know ? ” the old gentleman exclaimed ; " but it is time that thtt 
pviahle farce should end.” 

" Sir, sir,” the marchioness said, " remember that he is your son.” 

" Silence, madam ! ” the old man said, harshly ; " this rebellious son has played 
with us long enough j the hour of punishment has pealed.” 

‘‘ In Gorl’s name, sir,” the marchioness continued, " do not be inexorable to your 
child. Let me speak to him ; perhaps you are too harsh with him, although you 
Jove him. I am his mother.” 

The old man seemed to hesitate for the moment, but immediately recovered. 

" Why should I consent to what you ask, madam } ” he replied, with a roughness 
mingled with pity ; " do you not know that the sole quality of his race which this 
rebellious son has retained is obstinacy ? ” 

" Oh, permit me to say, sir,” the old lady continued, in a suppliant voice, " he is 
my son as well as yours.” 

" And then, my lord,” Don Hernando remarked, in a mocking voice, " perhaps 
we are mistaken ; do not condemn my brother without hearing him.” 

“That is well, Hernando; I am delighted thus to hear you undertake your 
brother’s defence,” said the old lady. 

‘‘Certainly, mother; 1 love my brother too dearly,” the young man said, ironi- 
rally, “ to let him be accused without proof. That Rodolfo has seduced the 
daughter of the principal cacique of the Opatas and made her his mistress is evi- 
dent, and known to all the world as true, but it i.« of very little consequence. But 
what I will never believe until it is proved to me is that he has married this creature, 
any more than I will put faith in the calumnies that represent him not only as one 
of the intimate friends of the Curate Hidalgo, but also as one of his most active and 
influential partisans in this province. No ; a thousand times no ! A gentleman of 
the nafne and blood of Tobar knows too well what honour demands to commit such 
infamy.” 

During this speech, whose deep perfidy the count recognised, he was suffering 
from extreme emotion. At the first words his brother uttered he started as if he felt 
the sting of a viper. • 

‘‘ Well, my son,” the marquis said, " you see everybody defends you. What will 
you answer ? ” 

" Nothing, father,” the young man said ; " because, if I attempted to justify my- 
self you would not listen to me, and you would not comprehend me. Oh ! do not 
mistake my meaning,” he said, on seeing the marquis about to speak ; " you wor;id 
not understand me, feather, not through want of intellect, but through pride in your 
honour.” 

" Are there two sorts of honour, then ? ” the marquis exclaimed, involuntarily. 

" No, father,” Don Rodolfo answered, calmly, ‘‘^there is only one ; but there ate 
two ways of comprehending it ; and my brother, who a moment back told you with- 
out incurring your disapproval that a gentleman had the right to abuse the love of 
a maiden and make her his mistress, but that the honour of his name would forbid 
him marrying her, seems to me to have studied the point thoroughly, and is better 
able than I to discuss it. What am I reproached with ? Having married the 
daughter of an Indian cacique .> It is true; I avow openly that I have done so; 
her birth is perhaps as good as mine. What is the next charge — that I am a friend 
ci the Curate Hidalgo, and one of his firmest adherents? That is also true; ana i 
^ happy and proud of his friendship ; I glory in these aspirations for liberty with 
wt.ich you reproach me as a crime. Faithful to the motto of our ancestors, I have 


Stron^hand. 




done everything for honour ; my conscience is calm ; and some day you will forgive 
me,” 

” Never ! ” the marquis shouted, in a terrible voice. “ Begone 1 I no longer know 
you ! You are no longer my son I Begone, villain! 1 give you my ” 

“Oh!’’ shrieked the marchioness, “ do not curse him, sir! Do not add tnac 
punishment t > the one you have inflicted on him. The unhappy boy is ajlready suf- 
ficiently punished.’’ 

“ Begone!” said the marquis, in a hollow voice. “May God watch over you, foi 
henceforth you have no family. Farewell ! ” 

The young man rose and tottered out of the room without saying a word. 

“ My son, my son ! ” the marchioness exclaimed, in a heart-rending voice. 

The implacable old man quickly stopped her at the moment when, half mad vsith 
grief, she was rushing from the dais, and pointed to Don Hernando. 

“ You have only one son, madam,” he said, in a harsh voice. 

The marchioness uttered a cry of despciir, aad, aushed with grief, fell senseless at 
her husband’s feet. 


CHAPTER Vin. 

THK TWO BROTHERS. 

Akter quitting the red room Don Rodolfo, under the weight of the condemnation 
.pronounced against him, with broken heart and burning head had rushed onwards, 
flying the paternal anger, and resolved to leave the hacienda as quickly as possible, 
never to return to it. His horse was still in the first yard, where he had tied it uo. 
The young man went up to it, seize i the bridle, and placed his foot in the stirrup. 
At the same moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. Don Rodolfo turned as if 
seared with a hot iron. His brother was standing before him. 

“ What do you want, brother ? ” he said, in a firm voice. 

“ To press your hand before your departure,” the young man said. 

Rodolfo looked at him for a moment with an expression of profound disdain, then 
unhooking the sword that hung at his side, he handed it to his brother. 

“ There, Hernando,” he said, ironically, “ it is only right that, since you will 
henceforth bear the name and honour of our family, this sword should revert to you.’* 

“ Brother,” the young man stammered. 

“ I am not reproaching you,” Don Rodolfo continued, haughtily. “ Eniov in 
peace these estates you have torn from me. May lieaven grant that the burden may 
not appear to you some day too heavy, and that the recollection of the deed you have 
done may not poison your last years. Farewell for ever ! ” And letting the sword 
he had offered to his brother fall to the ground, he leaped on his horse and went otf 
at full speed, without even giving a parting glance at those walls which had seen his 
birth, and from which he was now eternally banished. Don Hernando stood for a 
moment with hanging head and pale face, crushed by the shame and consciousness 
of the bad action he had not feared to commit. Already remorse was beginning u. 
prey on him. 


The Two Brothers. 


9‘f 


** Poor Rodolfo 1 ** he muttered, stifling a sigh ; “ I am very guilty.” 

And he slowly returned to the hacienda. Count Don Rodolfo de Moguer kept the 
word he had given his brother : he never reappeared. Nothing was ever heard of 
him, and his intimate friends never saw him again after his journey to the hacienda, 
nor knew what had become of him. 

In the meantime Don Hernando by his father’s orders had succeeded to his 
brother’s title, and almost immediately married Dona Aurelia del Torre Azul, origin- 
ally destined for Don Rodolfo. The marquis and marchioness lived some few yeais 
longer. They died a few days after one another, bearing with them a poisoned sting 
■"rf remorse. 

But, inflexible up to his dying hour, the marquis never once made a complaint, 
and died without mentioning his son’s name. 

At the funeral a man was noticed in the crowd wrapped up in a wide cloak, and 
his features concealed by the broad brim of his hat being pulled over them. No one 
was able to say who this man was, although one old servant declared he had recog- 
nised Don Rodolfo. 

Then time passed away, important events succeeded each other, and Don Rodolfo, 
of whom nothing was heard, was considered dead. 

The Marquis de Moguer was not a wicked man as might be supposed ; but as a 
younger son, with no other hope than the tonsure, devoured by ambition, and freely 
enjoying life, he internally rebelled against the harsh and unjust law which exiled 
him from the pleasures of the world and condemned him to the solitude of the 
cloister. Assuredly, had his brother frankly accepted his position as fiist-born, and 
consented to undertake its duties, Don Hernando would rkever have thought for a 
moment of defrauding him of his rights. But when he saw Don Rodolfo despise the 
old traditions of his race, marry an Indian girl, and make common cause with the 
partisans of the Revolution, he eagerly seized the opportunity. 

And yet, strange contradiction of the human heart, Don Hernando dea ly loved 
his brother ; he pitied him — he would like to hold him back on the verge of the i)fc- 
cipice down which he thrust him, as it were. 

Unfortunately these reflections came too late — Don Rodolfo had disappeared with- 
out leaving a trace, and hence the marquis was compelled to restrict himself to sterile 
regrets. At times, tortured with the ever-present memory of the last scene at the 
hacienda, he asked himself whether it would not have been better for him to have 
had a frank explanation with his brother, after which Don Rodolfo, whose simple 
tastes agreed but badly with the exigencies of a great name, would have amicably 
renounced in his favour the rights which his position as elder brother gave him. 

At the beginning of 1822, on a day of madness which was to be expiated by years 
of disaster, the definitive separation took place between Spain and Mexico. After 
the ephemeral reign of Emperor Iturbide Mexico reverted to a republic. 

The Spaniards had suffered greatly during the War of Independence, as had their 
partisans, whose property had been burned and plundered by the revolutionists. The 
fatal decree of 1827, pronouncing the expulsion of tlie Spaniards, dealt the fatal and 
most terrible blow to their fortunes. 

The Marquis de Moguer was one of the persons most affected by this measure, 
although, during the entire War of Independence and the different governments that 
succeeded each other, he had taken the greatest care not to mix himself up at all in 
politics, and remained neutral between all parties. 

His fr-'ends advised him frankly to join the Mexican government, and give up his 
Spanish nationaliiy. The marquis, forced by circumstances, followed their 
advice. 

But things had greatly changed with the marquis. His immense fortune had 
vanished with the Spanish goveinineut. During ttie ten years of the War of Indc- 

c 


34 


Stronghand, 


pendence, his estates had lain fallow, and his mines, deserted by the workmen he 
formerly employed, had gradually become filled with water. 

The pride of the marquis was broken in this struggle against poverty ; his love foi 
his children restored his failing courage, and he bravely resolved to make head against 
the storm. The marquis therefore engaged a majordomo. For the first few years, 
all went well, or appeared to do so. The majordomo, Don Jose Paredes, to whom 
we shall have occasion to refer more fully hereafter, was one of those men so valu- 
able to haciendas, whose lives are spent on horseback, whose attention nothing escapes, 
who thoroughly understand the cultivation of the soil, and know what it ought to 
produce, almost to an arroba. 

But if the estates of the marquis were beginning to regain their value under the 
skilful direction of the bailiff, it was not the same with the mines. 

What Don Hernando gained on one side he lost on the other ; and his posinon, in 
spite of his efforts, became worse and worse, and the abyss of debt gradually enlarged. 
The marquis saw with terror the moment before him when it would be impossible 
for him to continue the struggle. Sad and aged by sorrow rather than years, the 
marquis no longer dared to regard the future, which daily became more gloomy for 
him. 

Hence Don Hernando resided alone with his son at the Hacienda del Toro; for he 
had lost his wife several years before, and his daughter was being educated in a con- 
vent at the town of Rosario. 

Some months before the period when our story begins ill-fortune had seemed not 
to grow weary of persecuting the marquis, but desirous of granting him a truce— 
this is how a gleam of sunshine penetrated the gloomy atmosphere of the hacienda. 
One morning a stranger, who appeared to have come a great distance, stopped at 
the gate, leading a mule loaded with two bales. This man, on reaching the first 
courtyard, threw the mule’s bridle to a peon, with the simple remark — “ For Sig.ior 
Don Hernando de Moguer,” and, without awaiting an answer, he started down 
the rocky road at a gallop and was lost in the windings of the path ere the peon had 
recovered from the surprise caused by the strange visit. Trie marquis, at once 
warned, had the mule unloaded and the bales conveyed to his study. Tney each 
contained twenty-five thousand piastres in gold, or nearly eleven thousand pounds of 
our money : on a folded paper was written one word — Restitution. 

It was in vain the marquis ordered the most minute researches ; the strange mes- 
senger could not be found. Don Hernando was therefore compelled to keep this large 
sum, which arrived so opportunely to extricate him from a difficult position, for he 
bad a considerable payment to make on the morrow. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A NEW CHARACTER. 

Although, owing to its position on the shores of the Pacific, Sonora enjoys the 
blessings of the sea-breeze, still, for three hours in the afternoon, the ea^, incessantly 


A New Character, 


35 


baked by the torrid sunbeams, produces a crushing heat. Men and domestic animals 
hasten to seek shelter in the houses, raising in their hurried progress a white, impalp- 
able, and calcined dust, which enters mouth and nostrils. For some hours Sonora 
is converted into a vast desert. 

Eveiybody is asleep, or at lea-t reclining in the most shady rooms, with closed eves, 
and with the body abandoned to that species of somnolency which is neither sleeping 
nor waking. 

Like that city in the “ Arabian Nights,” the inhabitants of which the wicked 
enchanter suddenly changed into statues by waving his wand, life seemed suddenly 
arrested at the Hacienda del Toro, for the silence was so profound : peons, vaqueros, 
craidos, everybody in fact, were enjoying their siesta. It was about three in the 
afternoon, and two gentlemen alone had not yielded to sleep, in spite of the crushing 
midday heat ; but, seated in an elegantly-furnished cuarto, they had spent the hours 
usually devoted to slumber in conversation. 

Of these two gentlemen, one, Don Hernando de Mogner, is already known to us. 
Y ears, while stooping his back, had furrowed some wrinkles on his forehead, and 
mingled many silver threads with his hair; but the expression of his face is gentl 
and timid, although clever, slightly sarcastic and eminently crafty. 

As for the person with whom Don Hernando was conversing, he was a short, 
plump man, with a rubicund face and apoplectic look, though hardly forty years of 
age. Still his hair, which was almost white, his deeply wrinkled forehead, and his 
grey eyes buried beneath bushy whiskers, gave him a senile appearance, harmonising 
but little with the sharp gesticulation and youthful manner he affected. His long, 
thin, violet nose was bent like a parrot’s beak over a wide mouth filled with white 
dazzling teeth ; and his prominent cheekbones, covered with blue veins, completed a 
strange countenance, the expression of which bore a striking likeness to that of an owl. 

This species of nutcracker, with his prominent stomach and short ill-hung limbs, 
whose whoL appearance was most disagreeable, had such a mobility of face as ren. 
dered it impossible to read his thoughts. His cold blue eyes were ever pertinaciously 
fixed on the person addressing him, and did not reveal the slightest emotion. 

He was Don Rufino Contreras, a rich landowner and a senator. 

At the moment when we entered the cuarto, Don Hernando, with arms folded at 
Ais back and frowning brow, is walking up and down, while Don Rufino, seated on 
a butacca, with his body thrown back, is following his movements with a crafty 
smile. For some minutes the haciendero continued his walk, and then stopped 
before Don Rufino, who bent on him a mocking, inquiring glance. 

“ Then,” he said, ” you must have the sum within a week? ” 

“ Yes,” the fat man replied, still smiling. 

“ Why, if that is the case, did you not warn me sooner ? ” 

“ I believe you do me the justice of allowing that I am your friend ? ** 

" If so, no matter; but let us pass over that.” 

“ Very well. Knowing that you were in a critical position at the moment, I tried 
to procure the sum by all possible means. You see, my dear Don Hernando, how 
delicate and truly friendly my calculations were. Unfortunately, at the present time 
it is very difficult to get money in. In such a perplexing position, I leave you to 
judge what I was obliged to do. The money I must have ; you have owed it for a 
long time, and I apply to you.” 

“ Still I think you might have sent a peon to warn me before you left Sonora.” 

” I hoped to collect the required sum on my road, and not be obliged to come all 
the way to your hacienda.” 

Don Hernando made no reply, but walked up to a window, the shutters of which 
he threw open, and a refreshing breeze entered the cuarto, Don Rufino gave a sigh 
ut relief and sat up in his butacca. 


Stronghand, 


S6 


“ Ouf,’’ he said, “ I was very tired; not through the long ride I was compelled to 
make this morning, so much as through the heat.” 

Don Hernando started at this insinuation, as if he had been stung by a serpent % 
he had neglected all the laws of Mexican hospitality ; for Don Rufino’s visit had so 
disagreeably surprised him, and made him forget all else before the sudden obliga- 
tion of the claims of a merciless creditor. But he now rang a bcii, and a peon at 
once came in. 

“ Refreshments,” he said. 

The peon bowed, and left the room. 

“ You will excuse me, caballero,” the haciendero continued, frankly, “but your 
visit so surprised me that at. the moment I did not think of offering the refreshment 
which a tired traveller requires so much. Your room is prepared, rest yourself to- 
night, and to-morrow we will arrive at a mutually satisfactory solution.” 

“ I hone so, my dear sir. Heaven is my witness that it is my greatest desire,” 
Don Rufino answered, as he raised to his lips the glass of orangeade brought by 
the peon. “ Unhappily I fear that we cannot come to a settlement unless ” 

“ Unless 1 ” Don Hernando sharply interrupted. 

“ Unless you pay me in full what you owe me, which appears to me to be diffi- 
cult.” 

Ah I ” Don Hernando remarked, with an air of constraint, “ what malses you 
suppose that ? ” 

“ I suppose nothing, my dear sir; you told me you were hardly pressed.” 

“Well, and what conclusion do you derive from that.^” the haciendero asked, 
impatiently. 

“ A very simple thing — that seventy thousand piastres form a rather round sum, 
and that, however rich a man may be, he does not always have it in his hands.*’ 

“ But can you not wait a few days longer ? ’’ 

“ Impossible, I repeat ; let us understand our respective positions, in order to avoid 
any business misunderstanding. I lent you that sum, and only stipulated for small 
interest, I believe.” 

“ I allow it, senor, and thank you for it.” 

“ It is not really worth the trouble ; I was anxious to oblige you. I did so, but 
remember, I made one condition which you accepted.” 

“ Yes,” Don Hernando said, with an impatient start, “ and I was wrong.” 
d'he condition was that you should repay me the sum upon demand.” 

“ Have I said the contrary ? ” 

“ Far from it ; but now that I want the money, I ask you for it, and that is 
natural ; I have in no way infringed the conditions.” 

“ Hence, if I ask a month to collect the money you claim ? ” 

“ I should be heart-broken, but should refuse ; for I want the money, not in a 
month, but in a week.” 

What most hurt Don Hernando was not the recall of the loan, painful as it was to 
him, so much as the way in which the demand was made. Carried away by the 
rage that filled his heart, he was about to give Don Rufino an answer which would 
have broken off all relations between them for ever, when a great noise was heard in 
the hacienda, mingled with shouts of joy and the stamping of horses. 

” Here are my children, caballero,” said Don Hernando ; “ not a word of this 
affair before them, I entreat.” 

“I know too well what I owe yoU; my dear senor,” the other replied. “With 
your permission, however, I will withdraw.’’ 

” No, no ! ” Don Hernando added, “ I had better introduce you at once to nay 
son and daughter.’’ 

“ As you please, my dear sir, 1 shall be highly flattered,’* 


Don Jose Paredes, 




The door opened, and Don Jose Paredes appeared. The majordomo was a half- 
breed of about forty years of age, tall and powerfully built, with bow legs and round 
shoulders that denoted his capacity as a horseman. 

“ Senor amo,’* he said, “ the nino and nina have arrived in good health, thanks to 
our lady of Carnerno.” 

“ Thanks, Don Jose,” Don Hernando replied ; “ let them come in.” 

The majordomo gave a signal outside, and the two young people rushed into the 
room. With one bound they were in their father’s arms, who for a moment pressed 
them to his heart ; but then he pushed them away, remarking that a stranger was 
present. 

“ Senor Don Rufino,” the marquis said, “ I present to you my son, Don Ruiz de 
Moguar, and my daughter. Dona Marianita ; my children, this is Senor Don 
Rufino Contreras, one of my best friends.” 

“ A title of which I am proud,” Don Rufino replied, with a bow. 

“ Aie the apartments ready, Don Jose ? ” Don Hernando continued. 

Yes, excellency,’’ the majordomo said, with a radiant smile. 

** If senor Don Rufino will permit it, you can go and lie down, my children,” the 
haciendero said. “ You must be tired.” 

” You will also allow me to rest, Don Hernando?” the senator then said. The 
haciendero bowed. 

“ We will resume our conversation at a more favourable moment,” he continued, 
as he took a side glance at Dona Marianita. ” However, my dear senor, do not 
feel too anxious about my visit ; for I believe I have discovered a way of arranging 
matters without inconveniencing you too much.” 

And, bowing to his knees to the marquis, Don Rufino left the room, smiling with 
an air of protection. 


CHAPTER X. 

DON JOSE PAREDES. 

Several days had elapsed since the return of Don Ruiz and his sister to the 
hacienda, and Don Rufino had not said a word about the money which occasioned 
his visit. 

Everything had returned to its old condition. Don Ruiz went out on horseback 
in the morning with Jose Paredes, in order to watch the peons and vaqueros, leaving 
to his father and sister the care of doing the honours to Don Rufino. For the first 
two or three days Dona Marianita had been considerably embarrassed by their guest’s 
obsequious smiles and passionate glances ; but she soon made up her mind, and 
only laughed at the craving look and absurd posture of the stout gentleman. 

It was evident to everybody that Don Rufino was seeking to obtain tlie hand of 
Dona Marianita. Don Hernando, in spite of the secret annoyance this pursuit 
caused him, for this man was the last he would have desired as his son-in*law, did 
not dare, however, let his vexation be seen. 

Since his r rrival at the hacienda, Don Rufino had sent off messengers in several 


38 


Stronghand. 


directions, and received letters. One morning he entered Don Hernando’s study 
with an easy air, where the latter passed nearly the day, engaged in the most ab- 
struse calculations. The haciendero laised his head with amazement on seeing the 
senator; it was the first time the latter had come to seek him in this room. 

“ My dear senor,” Don Rufino began, as he stretched himself out on a butacca, 
" excuse me for pursuing you into your last entrenchments, but I want to talk 
seriously.” 

“ Y ou have done well,” Don Hernando answered : ” you know that I am ent rely 
at your disposal.’’ 

“ I will not trouble you long : I am not fond of lengthy conversations, and have 
merely come to terminate our affair.” 

Tne haciendero felt cold drops stand on his temples at this frank avowal. 

“ I had not forgotten you,” he replied : ” at this very moment 1 was making ai* 
jangements which I trust will enable me *o discharge the debt in a few days,” 

“ That is not the point,” said Don Rufino ; ” I do not want the money.” 

Dun Hernando looked at him in amazement. 

“ d'hat surprises you,” the senator continued, ” and yet the affair is very simple. 

I was anxiv us to prove to you that you had in me not a pressing creditor, but a truly 
devoted friend.” 

“ Still,’’ Don Hernando, who feared a snare, objected ; ” you said to me— — ” 

‘‘I believed it,’’ Don Rufino interrupted him. “Fortunately it was not so, as 1 
have recently acquiced the proof : not only have I been able to meet my payment, 
but 1 have a considerable sum left m my hands which 1 do not know what to do 
with, and which I should feel much obliged by your taking.” 

Don Hernando, confounded by this overture, which he had been so far from 
expecting from a man who had at first been so harsh with him, was silent, for he 
knew not what to answer. 

“ Good gracious ! ” continued Don Rufino, with a smile ; “ during the few days 
\ have been with you, my dear senor, I have been enabled to appreciate the inte.li- 
fent way in which you manage your immense estate. Unfortunately for you, you 
are short cf capital just at the moment when it is most necessary ; but as this is a 
common case, you cannot complain. The money you want 1 have, and I ofier it 
to you. 1 trust you will not insult me by doubting my friendship.” 

“ But,’’ Don Hernando stammered, “ 1 am already your debtor to a heavy 
amount.” 

“ Well, what matter You will be my debtor for a larger amount.” 

•*1 understand all the delicacy and kindness of your conduct, but I fear — — ” 

“ What? — that I may demand repayment at a inconvenient moment ? ” 

1 will not conceal from you— — ” 

“ Y ou are wrong, Don Hernando. I wish to deal with you as a friend, and do 
you a real service. Y ou owe me seventy thousand piastres, I believe ? ” 

“ Alas, yes ! ” 

“Why that ‘alas’?” the senator asked, with a smile. “Seventy thousand 
piastres, and fifty thousand more I am going to hand you directly, will form a 
round sum, for which you will give me your acceptance payable — what date will 
suit you best ? ’’ 

Don Hernando hesitated. Evidently Don Rufino, in making him so strange a 
proposal, had an object. The senator’s love for his daughter could not impel him 
to do such a generous act; this unexpected kindness evidently concealed a snare; 
but what was the snare ? 

“ You hesitate,” said Don Rufino, “ and you are wrong. Let us talk candidly. 
You cannot possibly hope to realise any profit within eight months, so it will be 
impossible to pay me so large a sum before tliat period.” Then, opening his 


Don Jose Paredes. 


39 


pocket-book and taking out six bills, which he laid on the table, he continued ; 
“ Here are the fifty thousand piastres ; give me an acceptance payable at twelve 
months* date.’’ 

Money, under whatever shape it presents itself, has an irresistible attraction in 
the eyes of the speculator and embarrassed man. Don Hernando felt this. Any 
longer hesitation on his part would therefore have been unjustifiable; hence he took 
the bills, and gave his acceptance. 

“That’s settled,” Don Rufino said, as he folded the document. “ My dear senor, 
you are really a singular man. There is more difficulty in getting you to accept 
money than there would be in getting another to pay it.” 

“ I really do not know how to thank you, Don Rufino.” 

“ Money is always opportune,’’ the senator replied, with a laugh ; “but let us say 
no more about that. If you have a safe man, send him off at once to cash these 
bills at Hermosillo.” 

“This very day my majoidomo, Don Jose Paredes, shall set out for the ciudad^** 
Very good. Now I have one request to make of you.” 

“ Speak, speak. I shall be delighted to prove to you how grateful I am.” 

“ This is the matter : now that I am, temporarily at least, no longer youj creditor, 
I have no decent pretext for remaining at the hacienda.’’ 

“ Well, what does that matter } ’’ 

“ It matters a great deal. I should like to remain here a few days longer.** 

“Are you jesting, Don Rufino.^ The longer you remain at the hacienda, th9 
greater honour you will do us.” 

‘‘ Very good. Now I shall leave you to your business.” 

When the majordomo returned to the hacienda at about eleven o’clock, Don 
Hernando sent for him. Without taking the time to pull off his vaquero boots Jose 
Parades hurried to his master. 

“ Have you a good horse ? ” the haciendero asked. 

“ I have several, excellency,’’ he answered. 

“ I mean by a good horse one capable of going a long distance.” 

*‘l have a mustang on which I could ride to Hermosillo and back.” 

“I ^ant to send you to Hermosillo as soon as you have rested.” 

“ I am never tired, excellency ; in half an hour 1 shall have lassoed my horse, 
saddled it, and mounted, unless you wish me to defer my journey.’’ 

“ The hours for the siesta will soon be here, and the heat will be insufferable.’* 

“ You are aware, excellency, that we haif-Indians are children of the sun.” 

“ You have an answer for everything, Don Jose.” 

“ For you, excellency, I feel myself capable of performing impossibilities,” 

“ I know that you are devoted to my house.” 

“ Is it not just, excellency } For two centuries my family has eaten your bread t 
and if I acted otherwise I should be unworthy.” 

“ I thank you. I am about to entrust an important commission to you.’* 

“ Be assured that I shall perform it, excellency.” 

“ Very good. Y ou will start at once for Hermcsillo, where you will cash these 
bills for fifty thousand piastres.’’ 

“ Fifty thousand piastres I ” the majordomo repeated, with surprise. 

“ It surprises you, my friend, to whom I have confided my most secret affairs, that 
I have so large a sum to receive.” 

“ I ask nothing, excellency ; I am here to carry out your orders.” 

“ This money has been lent me by a fi'iend whose kindness is inexhaustible.” 

. “ Heaven grant that you are not mistaken, excellency.” 

What do you mean, Don Jose ? To what are you alluding? ” 

** 1 make no allusion, mi amo ; 1 merely think that Iriends wao lend fifty thousand 


40 


Stroji^hand. 


piastres from hand to hand; excellency, to a man whose affairs are in such a con- 
dition as yours are very rare at present.” 

Don Hernando sighed. He shared his majordomo’s opinions, though he would 
not allow it. 

“You ean take three or four persons with you,” he said presently, “for an 
escort.” 

“ What use is an escort, excellency? You want your money here? I will buy a 
mule at Hermosillo, and load the money on it, and it will take a very clever fellow to 
K)b me, I assure you.” 

“ Still, it would be perhaps better to have an escort.” 

“ Permit me to remark that it would be the way to set robbers on my track.” 

“ Fiva Dios ! 1 should be curious to know how you arrive at that conclusion.” 

“ Pi. single man is certain to pass unnoticed when the roads are infested with ban- 
dits of every description.” 

^‘Huml what you are sayii>g is not reassuring, Don Jose,” Don Hernando 
remarked, with a smile. 

“ On the contrary, the bandits to whom I am referring, excellency, are clever — too 
clever — and it is that which ruins them. They will never imagine that a poor devil' 
of a half-breed, leading a sorry mule, can be carrying fifty thousand piastres.” 

“ Well, I will not argue any longer; do what you think proper.” 

“ All right, excellency ; I will deliver the money to you without the loss of a real, 
1 promise you.” 

And he took up the bills, hid them in h\.n bosom, and after bowing to his master 
left the study. Jose Paredes went straight to the corral, where in a few minutes he 
had lassoed a mustang with small head and flashing eye, which he began saddling, 
after he had carefully rubbed it down. Then he inspected his weapons, laid in a 
stock of powder and ball, placed some provisions in his alforjas, and mounted. But, 
instead of leaving the hacienda, he proceeded to a separate building, and twice 
gently tapped at a window, before which he pulled up. The window opened, and Don 
Ruiz appeared. 

“ Ah, is that you, Paredes ? ” he said ; “ well, wait a minute.” 

“ Do not disturb yourself, nino,” said the majordomo. “ I am going a journey.” 

“ A journey : ” the young man asked, in surprise. 

“ Yes ; but only for a few days. The marquis has sent me.” 

“ Can you tell me the reason why you are going, and whither? ” 

“ The master will tell you himself, nino.” 

“ Good ; but I suppose you have some other motive for coming ? ” 

“Yes, nino; I wished to give you a piece of advice before leaving. During my 
absence watch carefully the man who is here.” 

“ Whom do you mean, Paredes? ” 

“ The senator, Don Rufino Contreras,” 

“ For what reason ? ” 

“ Watch him, nino, watch him I And now, good-bye for the present.** 


CHAPTER XI, 


ON THE ROAD. 

Jose Paredes, though he had in reality only fifty leagues to go, a distance which 
in most European countries is comfortably performed in a railway carriage in a few 
hours, was obliged, on account of the bad state of the roads and the indispensable 
precautions he had to take, to remain at least four days on the road before reaching 
Hermosillo. This journey, which would have been very painful « any man accus- 
tomed to the ease and luxuries of life, was only a pleasure-trip for the worthy 
majordomo, a real Centaur, whose life was spent on horseback — who slept more 
frequently in the open air than under a roof, and whose powerful constitution rendered 
him insensible to the annoyances inseparable from a journey made under such con- 
ditions. 

Jose Paredes rode along jauntily on his horse, at one moment carelessly smoking 
a husk cigarette, at another humming ajarabe or a seguedilla, while keeping his 
eye and ear on the watch, and his finger prudently laid on the trigger of his gun, 
which was placed across his saddle-bow. His second t!ay’s riding was drawing to 
a close. 

The sun was rapidly declining on the horizon : a rather powerful wind blew in 
gusts, raising clouds of dust, which blinded the horseman and formed a thick fog 
round him, in the midst of which he almost entirely disappeared. Although, as we 
have said, the day was drawing to a close, the heat was stifling, the sky had 
assumed a livid appearance; yellow clouds gradually collected in the horizon and 
were rapidly brought up by the wind. All presaged one of those storms which it is 
only possible to witness in these regions — veritable cataclysms which rend and up- 
root the largest trees, force streams from the'r beds, and overthrow the soil, as if the 
earth were strugglmg wildlv beneath the grasp of those horrible convulsions of 
Nature which completely change within a few hours the aspect of the country over 
which they have swept with the fury of the African simoom. 

“ Hum ! ” Jose Paredes muttered to himself, “ if I am not greatly mistaken, within 
an hour we shall have one of the most tremendous cordonazos that has been seen 
for some time. That will be most agreeable for me, and my position will not fail 
to be most amusing. Confound the tempest I Why could not it have waited for 
another eight-and-forty hours ? ” 

The majordomo, however, lost no time in vain lamv-ntation. Jose Paredes was a 
resolute man, long accustomed only to reckon on his courage, strength, and ei-rergy, 
to get him out of difficult situations he therefore carefully wrapped himself in his 
zarape, pulled his hat down over his forehead, and, bending over his hoise’s neck, 
dug his spurs, while crying sharply one word : “Santiago I ’’ a cry employed in this 
country to excite horses. The noble animal, astonished that its master should deem 
it necessary to employ spurs to give it ardour, gave a snort of passion, and started at 
a headlong pace. 

At length Paredes uttered a cry of joy, for he had reached the end of the ravine, 
and before him extended a vast plain, bordered by tail mountains in the horizon* 


4 * 


Stroh^hand, 


These mountains the majordomo wanted to reach, for there alone had he a chance of 
safety. Although his position had greatly improved after leaving the ravine, it was 
still extremely difficult, if the storm were to burst before he had succeeded in crossing 
the plains, which afforded him no shelter to brave the tornado. Hence the traveller, 
after exploring the neighbourhood with a rapid glance, and assuring himself that he 
had no hope of escaping the tempest, and the barren sandy plain which was only 
tr I versed by a few streams, repeated his cry of “ Santiago,” and set out on his mad 
ride once more. 

All at once a vivid flash broke through the clouds followed by a tremendous 
thunder-clap. The horse gave a start of terror, but quickly checked by its rider, 
started again through the torrents of rain which were beginning to fall. Night had 
suddenly set in ; the sun, veiled by the clouds, had become invisible, and it was in 
conde lined obscurity that the majordomo was compelled to attempt the supreme 
efforts on which life or death depended. 

The tempest had changed into a fearful hurricane, and raged with extreme fury. 
The unchained winds whistled violently, dashing the rain, and upraising masses of 
mud, which flew along the ground. 

An ill-omened swashing made the unhappy traveller, who was surprised by the 
tornado, understand that the streams were beginning to overflow and inundate the 
plain. By the vivid flashes which uninterruptedly followed each other, the major- 
domo could see all around large grey pools of water, which constantly widened, and 
enclosed l.im in an incessantly contracting circle ; distant sounds borne by the 
breeze heightened his apprehensions. 

Suddenly the majordomo uttered a cry of terror and anger, drew himself up, and 
pulled the bridle with such strength that the horse stopped short on his trembling 
legs. He fancied he had heard the distant sound of a bell. When an inundation 
comes the hacienderos have all their bells rung, in order to warn straggling travellers 
and tell them of a place of refuge. The majordomo listened ; in a few seconds a 
sound, faint as a sigh, reached the ear. The practised hunter was not mistaken ; it 
was really the expiring sound of a bell. 

In the darkness he had left his track ; he was lost in the midst of an entirely sub- 
merged country without the chance of help. In spite of his indomitable bravery the 
majordomo felt an internal horror ; an icy perspiration stood on his forehead, and he 
shook all over. At this supreme moment the man had but one terrible thought that 
he would bear with him to the tomb the fortune entrusted to him by his master, and on 
which the future of his chi.dren perhaps depended. Paredes felt burning tears start 
in his eyes, and a choking sob from his bosom. But this prostration only lasted a 
short time. Ashamed of the passing despondency to which he had yielded, the 
majordomo resolved fo sustain the insensate struggle till he drew his last breath. 

Rendered stronger by his energetic resolution, the majordomo passed the back of 
his hand over his eyes, addressed to heaven a mental prayer, and, instead of going 
on, he waited for a flash oy which he could examine his positim, and de.ide the new 
course he had to take. He had not to wait long ; almost imme 'lately a flash shot 
athwart the sky. Paredes uttered a cry of joy and surprise: he had seen, a few 
paces from him on his right, a rather tall hill, on the top of which he fancied h« 
noticeil a horseman. 

With that coolness which powerful men alone possess in critical circumstances, 
the majordomo, although he felt that tiie water was.rapi lly enwircling him, and was 
almost up to his horse’s girths, would not leave anyt;.ing to chance. Fearing he 
had been deceived by one of those optical illusions so frequent when the senses are 
over-excited, he resolved to wait for a second flash. All at once, at the moment 
when the desired flask lit up the darkness, a voice, that ov«.rpowcred the roar of the 
tempest, reached his ear — 


A Conversation hy Night, 


43 


** Courage 1 keep straight on,” he heard. 

The majordomo uttered a cry of delight which resembled a yell ; and, lifting his 
horse with his bridle and knees, he dashed towards the hill, pursued by the seething 
waters which were powerless to arrest him ; and. after an ascent that lasted scarce 
ten minutes, he fell fainting into the arms of the man whose summons had saved 
him. 


CHAPTER Xn. 

A CONVERSATION BY NIGHT. 

The majordomo’s fainting fit, caused rather by the moral struggle he had sus- 
ranitjd than by physical fatigue, was not of any duration. He threw off the furs 
and blankets laid over him to protect him, and looked curiously around him. The 
tempest was stiil raging, but it had lost a great deal of its violence. A few yards 
from its master his horse was quietly grazing ; it was eating the young tree»shoots, 
and the tall close grass that covered the ground like a thick carpet of verdure. 
Another horse was browsing close by. 

“ Good I ” Paredes muttered to himself, my saviour has not gone away ; I hope 
he is not far off, and that I shall see him soon.” 

The Mexican had scarce ended his soliloquy, ere a shadow stood out in the gloom, 
and the man of whom he was speaking appeared. 

“ Ah, ah I ” he said, gaily, ” you are all right again, I see.** 

“ Thanks,” the majordomo cordially answered. ” I fancy I must have looked very 
piti ible. Is it not disgraceful P'r a strong man to faint like a child ? ” 

“ Not the least in the world, companero,'^ the other said, frankly. “ Accident 
decreed that 1 should be for a long time the involuntary witness of the contest you 
waged. I declare that you are a tough combatant.’* 

This answer completely broke the ice. 

” I confess,” Paredes remarked, as he offered his hand to his new friend, “ that 
for a moment I believed myself lost, and had it not been for you I should have been 
so.” 

” Nonsense,** the other replied, as he pressed the hand offered him. “ You owe 
me nothing, for, by Jove ! you saved yourself all alone. But let us not dwell upon 
this point any longer, 1 fancy it would be best for us to try and get out of it as 
quickly as possible.” 

“ That is my opinion, too ; but, unluckily, the means at our disposal are very -* 
limited.” 

” Perhaps so ; at any rate, with your consent, we will hold a council.** 

"I he best thing we can do; day will not break for hours.** 

We have time before us, in that case.” 

During this short conversation the storm had entirely ceased. 

“ Before all,” the majordomo said, “ let us light a fire; now that the tempest has 
ceased, the wild beasts will seek the shelter of this hill,’* 

” Excellently argued ; I see that you are a hunter.’* 


44 Stronghand, 


** I was one for some time,” Paredes replied, with a sigh ; “ bat now it is all 
Over.” 

“ I pity you sincerely,” the stranger said, with an accent of sincerity, 

“ The finest years of my life were those I spent in the desert.” 

While conversing thus the two men had dug a hole with their machetes at the 
foot of an enormous larch tree to act as a hearth. In this hole they piled up all the 
resinous wood they were able to procure, lit it with some gunpowder rolled up in 
leaves, and in a few minutes a long jet of flame sprang up and joyously ascended 
to the sky, while the wood crackled and emitted millions of sparks. Fire has an 
immense influence upon the human mind; among other benefits, it has the faculty 
of restoring joy and hope ; and while warming a man with its reviving heat, it often 
makes him forget perils incurred and fatigues endured. 

“ Fiva Dios ! ” said the majordomo, shaking himself, “ I am now quite a dif- 
ferent man. What a fine thing a fire is 1 Suppose we nrake use of it, com- 
rade ? ” 

” Do so, pray,” the stranger replied, with a laugh ; ” but in what way ? ” 

“ Oh, that is very easy; you shall see. Are you not hungry.^ ” 

** Carai, it is fourteen hours since 1 have eaten ; but I have no provisions.” 

The majordomo fetched the alforjas which were fastened to his saddle. 

“ There 1 ” he said, displaying his provisions with some degree of complacency. 

The provisions which caused such delight to the two men would have made our 
European goodwives smile with pity. They consisted of some tasajo, cicuia, a lump 
of goat’s cheese, and a few mai^e tertillas ; but the majordomo produced a leather 
bottle, full of excellent mezcal, which had the effect of restoring to the two 
adventurers all their merry carelessness. 

“ Now let us hold a council, if you are agreeable,” the stranger said, as he inhaled 
an enormous mouthful of smoke. 

” As you are my senior on this territory,” the majordomo remarked, ” you have 
the first right to speak.” 

” Very good : we are surrounded by water, and though the tempest has ceased, 
the streams will not return to their bed for several hours.” 

” That is true,” the majordomo said : “ and yet we must get away from here.” 

” That is the question. To do so we can only employ two means.” 

“ Yes, we must either wait till the ground is dry, or at sunrise we can mount our 
horses and bravely swim off.” 

“ Y ou forget another way which is still at our service.” 

“ I do not think so.” 

“ We can get into a canoe, and tow our horses after us, which will tire them less 
than carrying us.” 

” Your opinion is certainly good, and I approve of it with all my heart; unluckily 
we want one very important thing to carry it out, and that is the canoe.” 

“ While you were in a faint,” the stranger continued, with a smile, ” I explored 
our domain. You know that in this country, when the rainy season arrives, the in- 
habitants are accustomed to hide canoes in bashes, and even in trees.” 

” That is true ; have you found a canoe ? ” 

“Yes; and hidden behind the very tree against which you are leaning.” 

“ Heaven be praised 1 In that case we run no risk; but is the canoe in good 
condition? ” 

“ I have assured myself of that fact, and even found two pairs of new paddles.** 

“ In that case we will start at sunrise, if that suits you.” 

** Excellently ; though I am not in such a hurry as you appear to be.” 

Shall we employ the few hours left us in having a sleep ? ” 

** Sleep if you like, but as I am not at all fatigued 1 shall watch.’* 


A Conversaikny hy Night, 


45 


** 1 accept your proyxjsal as frankly as you make it. Yet, with your permission, I 
will not close my eyes till I have become better acquainted with you.” 

‘‘ Oh, when travelling', what value can such formalities possess ? ” 

“ In a few hours we shall part, it is true, perhaps never to meet again ; but per- 
haps, at some distant period, we may require each ocher’s assistance ; now, how 
could I summon you if I did not know your name? ’* 

“ You’re right, comrade ; as for me, I am only a poor devil of a hunter, wood- 
ranger, or trapper, which you please, and my companions call me Stronghand.” 

“ Viva Dios, caballero ! you are well named, as I can declare ; your reputation 
has already reached me, and 1 am delighteU at the chance that has brought us 
together.” 

“I thank you,’’ the hunter replied, with a bow, 

“ As for me,” the Mexican continued, “ rny name is Jose Paredes.” 

“ What 1 ” Stronghand said, “ you are majordomo at the Hacienda del Toro.^ 

Yes, what do you find surprising in that ? ’’ 

“ The man whom his master sent two days ago to receive cash for heavy bills } ** 
“ How do you know that? ” Paredes exclaimed. 

“ What matter, so long as 1 know it ? ” the hunter replied. ” Believe me our 
meeting is truly providential.” 

That is strange,” Paredes muttered ; “how is it possible that a secret which my 
master confided to me alone should be in your possession ? ” 

A secret known to three persons,” said the hunter, “ is not a secret.” 

“ But that third person to whom you refer has no right to divulge it.” 

“ How do you know ? I think you said you had heard speak of me before wc met?” 
“ That is true, senor.” 

“ What terms did the persons who spoke of me employ ? ” 

•* They represented you to me as a man of unspotted loyalty.” 

“ Good I Does that report satisfy you — have you confidence in me ? ” 

“ Yes ; for I am convinced that you are an honest man.” 

“ 1 hope that your opinion of me will not alter. I will soon prove to you that it is 
fortunate for you and the marquis that we have met, for 1 was looking for you.” 

“ Looking for me ! I do not understand you.” 

“ You do not require to understand me; but everything will be explained. You 
are devoted to your master ? ” 

“ My family have lived on the estate for two hundred years, and I am devoted to 
my master body and soul.” 

“ That is the way to answer ; however, I knew it already, and only desired that 
your lips should confirm w'hat I have been told.” 

“ My master has no secrets from me.” 

“ I know that also. Well, now, listen to me attentively, Senor Paredes. Your 
master is at this moment in danger of being utterly ruineu. He is the plaything of 
villains who have sworn to destroy him. The sum you are going to fetch they in- 
tend to take from you.” 

” Are you certain of what you assert ? ” the majordomo exclaimed. 

“ I know all ; the men from whom I obtained your secret, who little expected that 
1 was listening to them, at the same time revealed to me the means they intended to 
employ in assassinating you.” 

“ Why, that is imfamous.” 

“ I am completely of your opinion, and that is why I wish to foil the plots of these 
villains.” 

“ But what interest induces you to act thus? ” the majordomo asksd 
“ That question I cannot answer. You must for the present lay aside i.11 curiosity. 
You must place entire confidence in me. Does this suit you? ” 


There was a lengthened silence. The majordomo was reflecting. 

“ Listen, Stronghand,” at length said Paredes, “ all that you have told me appears 
extraordinary, and I confess that at once ; but there is such frankness in your voice, 
and your reputation is so well established among your brethren, the woodrangers, 
who all proclaim your loyalty, that I do not hesitate to confide in you. I will do 
what you ask of me — resign my will entirely ; you may regard me as a thing be- 
longing entirely to you. Come, go, act as you think proper, and I will obey.” 

Yes, my worthy friend, that pleases me. Believe the word of an honest man. 
If anything can add to the confidence you have placed in me I swear to you, by all 
that is most sacred in the world, that no one is more interested than I am in the 
Marquis de Moguer.” 

“ We shall still start at sunrise, eh ? ” 

“Yes; but not to Hermosillo. Before going to that town, we must take certain 
precautions. We have to deal with crafty bandits. They are on our track, and we 
must cheat them.” 

“ Good, good ! I will call to mind my old hunter’s profession.” 

“ Remember, above all, the prairie proverb, ‘ The trees have eyes and the leaves 
ears.* ” 

“ But if we do not go to Hermosillo, where are we going ? ” 

“ To-morrow, when it is daylight,” the hunter answered, “ when the bright sun- 
beams permit me to convince myself that no one can hear us, I will tell you. For 
the present, sleep.” 

And, as if to avoid fresh questioning, the hunter wrapped himself in his zarape, 
leant his back against the larch-tree, stretched out his legs to the fire, and closed bis 
lycs* The majordomo fiimself was soon fast asleep. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

THE REAL DE MINAS, 

Sonora is the richest mining country in the world. We assured ourselves by ofRcia] 
data that six hundred bars of silver and sixty bars of gold, worth together a million 
of piastres, were brought to the mint of Hermosillo in 1839. 

No country in the world possesses auriferous strata so rich and so extensive. Thef 
metal is found in alluvial soil in ravines after rain, and always on the surface or at a 
depth of a few feet. In the north of the province of Arispe, the placers of Quitoval 
and Sonoitac, which were found again in 1836, and to which we shall soon have to 
allude more specially, produced for three years two hundred ounces of gold per day, 
that is to say, reducing it to our money, the large sum ot two hundred and fiUy 
thousand pounds. 

The gold-seekers restrict themselves to turning up the soil with a pointed stick, 
and only collect the nuggets that are visible ; but if the streams were diverted from 
their course, and large washings undertaken, the profits would be far more consider- 
able. It is not rare* to find nuggets weighing several pounds. Wc saw at Arispe, 


The Reat ie Minas, 


4 ^ 


in the hands of a miner, one that was worth nine thousand piastres, or about 
eighteen hundred pounds. 

Most of the buildings of the pueblos, or missions of Sonora, serve as the gathering 
place of the nomadic workmen and traders. The place where the workmen assemble 
takes the name of Real de Minas or Mineral ; and if the mine promises to be pro- 
ductive for any length of time the population definitively settles round it. Many im- 
portant towns oi Mexico had no other origin. 

We will temporarily leave Stronghand and Jos4 Paredes at the top of the hill, 
where they found a shelter from the inundation, and lead the reader to the Real Jc 
Minas of Quitoval. 

It was evening. The streets and plazas of the pueblo were crowded with 
individuals of every desciiption: Yaquis Indians, hunters, miners, gambusinos, 
monks, and adventurers, who composed the motley population of the Mineral, 
mounted and foot, incessantly jostled each other, and bowed, spoke, laughed, or 
quarrelled. Some were returning from the placer, where they had been at work all 
day ; others were leaving their houses to enjoy the evening breeze ; others, and they 
were the larger number, were entering the drink-shops, through whose doors could 
be heard the songs of the topers, and the shrill, inharmonious tinkling jarabes and 
vihuelas. 

One of these tendajos seemed to have the privilege of attracting a greater number 
of customers than all the rival establishments. After passing through a low door 
and descending two steps of unequal height, the visitor found himself in a species of 
hideous den, resembling at once a cellar and a shed. A hot, heavy vapour, 
impregnated with alcoholic fumes and mephitic exhalations, escaped through the 
door of this den, as from the mouth of Hades, and painfully affected mouth and 
eyes, before the latter became accustomed to the close, obscure aspect of the place, 
and were enabled to pierce the thick curtain of vapour, which was constantly drawn 
from one side to the other by the movements of the customers. They perceived, by 
the dubious light of a few candles scattered here and there, a large and lofty room, 
whose once whitewashed walls had become black at the lower part by the con- 
stant friction of heads, backs, and shoulders, to which they served as a 
support. 

Facing the door was a dais, raised about a foot above the ground ; this dais 
occupied the entire width of the room, and was divided into two parts ; that on the 
right contained a table forming a bar, behind which stood a tall, active fellow, with 
false look and ill-tempered face, the master of the tendajo. The left liand portion of 
the da’js was occupied by the musicians. 

O 1 each side of the room, the centre of which remained free for the dancers, ran 
rickety, badly-made, dirty tables, occup ed at this moment by a crowd of customers, 
some seated on benches, others standing, laughing, talking, shouting, quarrelling; 
drinking mezeal, refino, pulque, or infusion of tamarinds, or else staking at monte 
the gold earned during the day at the mine. A few women, creatures without a 
name, wb.ose features were sodden with debauchery, and eyes deep sunk with 
drinking, were mingled with the crowd. 

Nothing can describe the hideous aspect of this infamous Pandemonium, the 
refuge of all the vices of the province. 

At the moment when we invite the reader to enter this drinking-shop the room 
was full of drinkers and dancers, and the whole mob laughed and yelled. On the 
left, near the door, a man, wrapped up in a thick cloak, with one end of which he 
completely concealed his features, was sitting motionless at a separate table, lookirig 
absently and carelessly at the dancers. When a new-comer entered the tendajo this 
nan looked towards the door, and then turned his head away with an air of 
»U.huniour when he perceived that the uew-coiucr was tot the person that he bad 


48 


Stronghand. 


been expecting, Sti'l no one p^id, or seemed to pay, Jiny attention to him— ’all were 
too much absorbed in their own occupations. 

All at once a formidable disturbance broke out at one end of the room ; a table 
was upset ^y a vigorous blow ; oaths crossed each other in the air, and knives were 
drawn from boots; musicians and dancers stopped short, and a circle w is formed 
round two men who, with frowning brows, eyes sparkling with intoxication and 
passion, a zarape' rolled as a buckler round the left arm, and a navaja in their right 
hand, were preparing, according to all appearance, to attack each ot ler vigorously. 
The tendajero, or master of the house, then proved himself equal to his p 's tion ; he 
leaped like a jaguar over the counter behind which he had hitherto stood engaged 
in watching his waiters anti serving customers ; he closed the front, door, against 
which he leant his powerful shoulders, in order to prevent any customer bolting 
without payment of his score. 

d he two men were standing looking in each other’s eyes, ready for attack or 
defence. All at once the mysterious sleeper appeared to wake with a start, as if 
surprised by the voice of one of the adversaries, took a hasty glance at the 
combatants, and then dart -d between them. 

“ What is the matter ? ” he asked, in a firm voice. 

“ This man,” one of them answered, “ has lost three ounces at monte.” 

“ Well ? ” the stranger interjected. 

** He refuses to pay me,” the gambler continued, “ because he declares that the 
cards were pncked. Now, I am known to be a caballero.” 

At this affirmation, which was slightly erroneous, a smile of singular meaning 
curled the stranger’s lip ; but he continued — 

“ It is true that you are a cab Hero, and I would affirm it were it necessary ; but 
the m St honest man is subject to deceive himself. Hence, ins'ead of fighting with 
this caballero, whose honour and loyalty cannot be doubted, prove to him that you 
recognise your error by paying him the three ounces, and he will apologise.” 

“ Certainly, I am convinced that this caballero is a man of honour ; I am ready 
to proclaim it anywhere,” said the individual who had not yet spoken. 

The stranger then turned to the man whose friend he had made himself. 

“ Well, caballero,” he said, “ what do you think of this apology ? ” 

The man thus addressed hesitated for a moment ; a combat was evidently going 
on in his mind ; his furious glances seemed to challenge the company, and had he 
perceived on the face of one of the spectators an expiesslon of contempt, however 
fugitive it might have been, he would doubtless have immediately picked another 
quarrel. But all the persons who surrounded him were cold and indiffeient. 

“ Pardon me an involuntary error, at which I am truly confused,” he said, with 
a courteous bow ; “ here is your money.” 

'I'he other took the ounces without pressing, thrust them away in his capacious 
pockets. 

‘‘Now, Master Kidd,” the stranger continued, “I suppose that all your business 
here is settled, so with your permission we will withdraw.” 

“ As you please,” Kidd answered, carelessly. 

The groups had broken up, tne crowd had dispersed, musicians and dancers had 
returned to their places, and the two men could consequently leave without attracting 
attention. The stranger, when he reached the purer atmosphere of the street, took 
seveial deep inspirations. 

‘‘ Cuerpo de Cristo ! Master Kidd,” he then said, in a tone of ill-humour, “ you 
are, it must be confessed, a singular fellow ; you compel me to come and hunt you 
up at this filthy den, where I consented to meet you, and, instead of watching for 
my arrival, you leave me among the most perfect collection of bandits I ever saw.” 

“ Excess of zeal, captain, so you must not be angry with me for tfiat,” the bandit 


The Bargain, 


49 


ATiswered. “ In order to be punctual, 1 had been for nearly four hours at worthy 
i^cnor Cospeto’s. Not knowing how to spend my time, I played at cards. You 
ka*.ow what monte' is ; once I have the cards in my hand I forget everything.” 

‘‘‘‘ 1 am willing to believe you. Still, I pledge you my word that if you dupe me 
an the affair you will repent it. You know me, 1 think. Master Kidd ? ” 

* ‘ Yes, CiJ^pta^in Don Marcos de Niza, and I suppose that you know me too ?” 

IThe captain gave him a suspieiQus glance. 

“ h is well,” he said, as he rapped at the door ; “ come in, this is my house ; I 
prefer treating with you here.” 

” As you please,” the bandit said, and followed the captain into his house# 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE BAROAIM. 

Captain Don Marcos ne Niza, whom we left commanding the post of San 
Miguel, had been a tew days previously summoned to the political and military 
government of the Mineral of Quitoval. The fact was that during the last few days 
certain events had occurred which demanded energetic action on the part of the 
president. All at once, at a moment when no discontent was supposed to exist 
among the Indians, the latter revolted, and had, without any declaration of war, 
invaded the Mexican territory. This revolt suddenly assumed serious proportions, 
and had become the more formidable within a stioit time, because the revolters were 
the C >manches, Apaches, and Axuas. 

'I'he general commanding Sonora and Cinaloa, the two states most exposed to 
the depredations of the Indians, saw that he must oppose to the Indians a man who 
had aequiied great experience as to their way of fighting and the tricks they em- 
ploy. Only one officer fulfilled these conditions, and that officer was Captain de 
Niza ; he, therefore, received orders to quit the post of San Miguel after dismantling 
it, and proceed immediately to the Mineral of Quitoval. 

Unfortunately, the general commanding the provinces had but a very limited 
military force at his disposal ; scarce amounting to six hundred infantry and two 
hundred cavalry, without field artillery. Hence, in spite of his lively desire to give 
the captain a respectable force, as he was obliged to scatter his troops along the 
frontier of the two states, he found it impossible to send to Gfuitoval more than one 
hundred infantry and fifty cavalry. 

Still, as he expected to be attacked at any moment by an army of ten or fifteen 
thousand veteran Indians, amply supplied with firearms, and who, through being 
accustomed to fight with Spaniards, could not be easily terrified, he had to augment 
the number of his soldiers, so as to have men enough to line the entrenchments he 
had thrown up round the town. He had but one means by which to obtain this 
»“.su*t, and be employed it. 

It was verv simple. It consisted in enlisting, for a certain bounty, as many as 
nc could of tile adventurers who always swarm on the borders. The sura oftered 


Stronghand 




♦t'c captain was two ounces per man, one payable on enlistment, the other at the 
termination of the campaign. This offer, seductive though it was, did not produce 
a'* the effect the captain expected from it. The adventureis responded but feebly to 
the appeal made to them. These men, in whose hearts patriotic love does not 
exist, and who only care for pillage, saw in the insurrection of the Indians a source 
of disorder, and, consequently, of rapine. 

Thirty or forty adventurers, however, responded to the call ; and these rough men, 
who were impatient at the yoke of discipline, were rather an embariassmenl than 
an assistance to the captain ; still as, take them altogether, they were sturdy fellows, 
and thoroughly acquainted with Indian warfare, he attached them to his cavalry, 
which was thus raised to a strength of one hundred men. Dan Marcos thus found 
himself at the head of two hundred and fifty infantry and one hundred horse. 

We are aware that this number of men defending a town will produce a smile of 
pity among European readers, who are accustomed to see masses of three hundred 
thousand men. But all is relative in this world. In America, where the population 
is comparatively small, great things have often been decided at the bayonet’s point 
by armies whose relative strength did not exceed that of one of our regiments. In 
the last battle fought between the Texans and Mexicans— a battle which decided the 
independence of Texas, the two armies together did not amount to six thousand 
men, six hundred and fifty on one side, and over five thousand on the other, and 
yet the collision was terrible, and victory obstinately disputed. 

One night, when the captain returned home after his usual visit to the pueblo to 
assure himself that all was in order, a ragged lepero, more than half-intoxicated 
with mezeal and pulque, handed him with an infinitude of bows a dirty slip of 
paper folded up in the shape of a letter. 

After throwing his cap and sword on a table, the captain opened the letter. 

7'ius letter came from Kidd. The captain had been long acquainted with the 
bandit, and knew certain peculiar facts about him which would have been most dis- 
agreeable to the bandit, had the latter suspected that the captain was initiated in the 
secrets of his vagabond life. Hence Don Marcos fancied he had no right to neg- 
lect the overtures the other was pleased to make ; while keeping on his guard and 
determined to punish him severely if he deceived him. The captain, therefore, pro- 
ceeded without hesitation to the place where the adventurer app dnted to meet him. 
He had waited for him for several hours with exemplary patience, and would probably 
have waited longer still, had not chance suddenly brought them face to face. 

When tlie two men had enteied the house, and the door closed after them, Don 
Marcos de Niza led the bandit into a room, the door of which he carefully closed. 
The captain pointed to a chair, sat down at a table, laid a brace of pistols ostenta- 
tiously within his reach, and said — 

“ Now I am ready to hear you.*’ 

“ Carai ' ” said the bandit ; “ but the point is am I disposed to speak ? ’’ 

And why not, pray, my excellent friend ? ” 

Hang it, captain,” he said, as he pointed to the pistols, “ there are two play- 
things not at all adapted t? set my tongue wagging.’’ 

‘'Master Kidd,” said Don Marcos, in a stern voice, “ I like a distinct understand- 
ing; let us, therefore, before anything e.stablish our relative positions. You have 
led a very agitated life. Master Kidd; your vagabond humour, your mad desire to 
appropriate certain things to which you have a very dubious claim have led you into 
a few mistakes.” 

The bandit shook his head in denial. 

“ .* will not dwell,” the captain continued, mockingly, “ on a subject which mus> 
make your modesty greatly suffer. I am commandant of this pueblo, and in that 
capacity compelled to watch over its external safety as well as its internal tranquillity.’* 

** Y cs, captain,” the bandit aiiswcred, somewhat tcassured. 


The Bargain. 




‘‘Very good; you wrote me this letter, appointing a meeting, and offering to sell 
certain most important information. Another man might have treated you in the 
Indian fashion. After having you arrested, he would have ordered a cord to be 
fastened round your temples. I have preferred dealing with you as an honest' 
man.” 

The bandit breathed again. 

“ Still, as you are one of those persons with whom it is advisable to take precau- 
t ons, I retain not only the right, but also the means of blowing out your brains if 
you have the slightest intention of deceiving me.” 

II Oh, captain, what an idea ! Blow out my brains ! ” cried the bandit. 

Do you fancy, my dear senor,” the captain continued, still sarcastically, “ that 
your friends will pity you greatly if such a misfortune happened to you > ” 

Hum ! to tell you the truth, I do not exactly know,” the adventurer answered, 
with an attempt to jest ; “ people are so unkind. But you accept my bargain ? ” 

“You sell; I buy;- it is your place to make your conditions; and, if they are 
not exorbitant — if, in a word, they seem to me fair, I will accept them.” 

“ Curia ! captain ; it is a delicate question, for I am an honest man.** 

** That is allowed,” interrupted Don Marcos. “ Name your price.” 

Fifty ounces ; would that be too much.^ ” the bandit ventured, 

“ Certainly not, if the thing be worth it.” 

*‘Oh, you shall judge for yourself,” he remarked, rubbing his hands. 

“ I ask nothing better but to buy, and to prove to you that I have no intention of 
cheating you,” he added. 

And the captain made two piles each of twenty -five ounces, exactly betw’eeu the 
pistols. At the sight of the gold the bandit’s eyes sparkled. 

“ Captain,” he exclaimed, “ there is a pleasure in treating with you. 1 will 
remember it.” 

“ 1 ask nothing better. Master Kidd. Now speak, I am listening.” 

” Oh, I have not much to say ; but you will judge whether it is important.” 

“ Go on ; I am all ears.” 

In two words, this is the matter : the Indians have not elected a chief, but an 
emperor ! ” 

“ Is he young ? ” asked the captain, coolly. 

“ He is sixty ; but as active as if he were only twenty.” 

Very good ; proceed.” 

” Is that important ? ” 

“ Very important. But not worth fifty ounces for all that.” 

“ The Yaquis, Mayos, and Seris have allowed themselves to be seduced, and have 
entered the Confederation. They have taken up again their old plans of 1827 
»> 

“ Go on,” said the captain.’* 

“ The first expedition is the capture of the Real de Minas.’’ 

“ I am aware of it.” 

“ Yes ; but do you know, captain, that the Indians have spies even among the 
j^anison ; and that the Indians intend to surprise you within the next two days? ” 
Who gave you this iniurmation ? ” 

“ What use my telling you, captain,’’ the bandit answered, “ if the information is 
correct ? ” 

“ Do you know the men who have entered into negotiation with the enemy ? ” 

“ J udge for yourself. But, suppose I were to tell you their names, what would 
happen ? ” 

“ Fiva Dins ! ’’ said the captain, sharply. “ I should shoot them like the miser- 
able dogs they arc.” 


5 * 


Stronghana, 


“ Well ; suppose you shoot ten men ? ’* 

** Twenty, if necessary.” 

“ Say twenty, it is of no consequence to me ; but those who remain will sell yod 
to the Indians, so that the only result will be precipitating the evil.’’ 

“ Ah, ah the commandant said. “ And what would you do ? ” 

“ I would leave the scamps at liberty to prepare their treachery, while carefully 
watching them ; and when the moment for attack arrived I would have them quietly 
arreste 1.” 

The captain appeared to reflect for a moment, and then said : “ The plan ycu 
recommend seems to me good, and for the present I see no inconvenience in carry- 
ing it out. Give me the names of the traitors ? ’’ 

Kidd mentioned a dozen names, which the captain wrote down a fter him. 

“ Now,” Don Marcos continued, “ there are your fifty ounces, and I shall give as 
many each time you bring me information as valuable as that of to-day. I pay 
you dearly, so it is your interest to serve me faithfully; but remember that if you 
deceive me, the punishment, I warn you, will be terrible.” 

The adventurer bounded on the money like a wild beast on a prey it has long 
coveted, concealed it with marvellous dexterity in his wide pockets, and said to the 
captain, with a bow: “Senor Don Marcos, I have always thought that in this 
world gold was the sovereign master, and that it alone had tire right to commaincL’* 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE UNITED INDIANS. 

We will now return to Stronghand and Jose Paredes, whom we have left too long 
at the top of the hill. The night passed without any incident, the majordomo 
sleeping like a man overcome by fatigue ; as for the hunter, he did not close his 
eyes once. The sun had risen for a long time; it was nearly nine o’clock, but the 
hunter, forgetting apparently what he had said to his comrade, did not dream o’ 
departure. 

“ Caramba ! ” said the majordomo suddenly awakening ; “ I fancy I have for- 
gotten myself; it must be very late.” 

“Ten o’clock,” the hunter answeied, with a smile. 

“ Hum 1 ” Paredes replied, half-laughing, half-vexed ; “ I know not whether I 
ought to complain or thank you for this weakness, for we have lost precious time.” 

“ Not at all ; see, the water has disappeared ; the ground is growing firm again, 
and when the great heat of the day is past we will mount our horses.” 

“That is true, and you are right, comrade,” said the majordomo. “ Well, as it 
is so,” he added, with a laugh, “ suppose we breakfast, for that will enable us to kill 
some time.” 

“ Very good,” the hunter replied, good humouredly. 

They breakfasted as they had supped on the previous night. When the hour for 
starting at length arrived they saddled their horses and led them down the hill ; for 


The United Jn Ham, 


53 


the ascent which they had escaladed so actively by night, under the impulse of the 
pressing danger that threatened them, now proved extremely steep, abrupt, and difH- 
cult. When they mounted Stronghand said : “ My friend, I am going to take you to 
an atepetl of the red-skins. Do you consider that disagreeable ? ” 

“ Not personally, but I will ask what advantage my master can derive from it? 

“ That question I am unable to answer at the moment.” 

” Let us go, then. One word, however, first. Are the redskins to whom we arc 
proceeding a long distance off? ” 

” You and I,” the hunter continued, “who arc true guides, and who have also the 
advantage of being well mounted, will reach the village at three or four o’clock to- 
morrow afternoon. You must have heard of the village spoken of, if chance has 
never led your footsteps thither?” 

“ Why so ? ” 

“ Because it is only a dozen leagues at the most from the Hacienda del Toro.” 

“ Wait a minute,” the majordomo said, “ you are right, I have never been to that 
village, it is true, but 1 have often heard it spoken of. Is not one of the chirfs a 
while man? ” 

“ So people say,” answered the hunter. 

“ Is it not strange,” the majordomo continued, “ that a white man should consent 
to abandon entirely the society of his fellows to live with savages ? ” 

Receiving no answer, he followed his guide. The day passed without any occur- 
rences to interrupt the monotony of their ride, which they continued with great speed 
till night, only stopping from time to time to shoot a few birds for supper. Gallop- 
ing, talking, and smoking, they at length reached the spot where they intended to 
bivouac. The road they had followed in no way resembled the one the majordomo 
had taken on leaving the hacienda, although they were returning in the direction of 
Arispe. Tl ey galloped on as the bird flies, ciossing mountains and swimming 
rivers whenever they came to them, without losing time in seeking a ford. 

This mode of travelling, generally adopted by the woodrangers of the savannah, 
where the only roads are tracks made by the wild beasts, would not be possible in 
civilised countries, where there are so many towns and villages; but in Mexico, 
especially on the Indian border, towns are excessively rare. At night they camped 
in a wood beyond the Hacienda del Toro, which building they saw rising gloomy 
and tranquil, like an eagle’s nest on the top of its rock, and they passed close to it 
during the afternoon. 

The country now assumed a wilder and more abrupt aspect ; the grass was 
thicker, the trees were larger, older, and closer together. It was evident that the 
travellers were at the extreme limit of civilisation, and would soon find themselves in 
the red territory, although nominally, at least on the maps, this territory figured among 
the posses ions of the Mexican Confederation. 

The two men, after lighting their watch-fire, supped with good appetite, rolled 
themselves in their zarapes, and fell asl ep, trusting to the instinct of their horses to 
warn them of the approach of any enemy, whether man or wild beast, that attempted 
to surprise them during their sluc.ibers. But nothing disturbed them ; the night was 
quiet. At sunrise they awoke, mounted, and continued their journey. 

“ When we have crossed that hill,” said the hunter, “ we shall see the village a 
short distance ahead of us, picturesquely grouped on the side of another hill, and 
running into the plain, where the last houses are buil/ on the banks of a pretty little 
stream, whose white and limpid waters serve as a natural rampart.” 

” Tell me, comrade, what do you think of the reception that will be offered us ? ^ 

*• The Indians are hospitable.” 

“I do not doubt it. Unluckily, I have no claims to their kindness. I know that 
fiiey are very suspicious, and never like to see white men enter their villages.” 


54 


Stronghand, 


That depends on the way in which white men try to enter them.” 

“ There is another reason. It is said that the Papazos Indians are excited, and OO 
the point of revolting.” 

“ They rose in insurrection some days ago,” Stronghand coolly answered. 

“ What? ” the majordorao exclaimed, “ and are you leading me to them? ” 

“ Why not ? ” ^ 

“ Because we shall be massacred, that’s all.” 

” You are mad,” said the hunter. 

“ 1 am mad — I am mad 1 ” Paredes repeated, shaking his head very dubiously % 
“ it pleases you to say that.” 

” Viva Dios ! do you fancy me capable of leading you into a snare ?” 

No ; on my honour that is not my thought; but you may be mistaken.” 

” I am certain of what I assert. You will have an honourable reception.” 

” Honourable 1 ” the majordomo remarked ; “ I am not very certain of that.” 

“You shall see. Woe to the man who dared to hurt a hair of your head while 
you are in my company.” 

“ Who are you, to speak thus ? ” 

“ A hunter, nothing else ; but I am a friend of the Papazos, and adopted son of 
one of their tribes.” 

“ Well, be it so,” the majordomo muttered. 

“ Besides,” the hunter added, “ any hesitation would now be useless, and perhaps 
dangerous.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

“ Because the Indians have their scouts scattered through the woods and over the 
plain already ; they saw and signalled our approach long ago, and if we attempted 
to turn back it would just appear suspicious.” 

“ That makes the matter singular. You think we have been seen ? ” 

“ I will give you the proof,” .said the hunter. 

The travellers had reached the foot of the lull, and were at this moment concealed 
by the tall grass that surrounded them. Stronghand stopped his horse, and imitated 
theory of the ma.vkavvis twice. Almost immediately the grass parted, an Indian 
bounded from a thick clump of trees with the lightness of an antelope, and stopped 
two yards from the hunter, on whom he fixed his black, intelligent eyes witiiout say- 
ing a word. 

This Indian was a man of twenty-three years of age at the most, whose exquisite 
proportions made him resemble a marble statue. The whole upper part of his body 
was naked ; his unloosened hair hung in disorder over his shoulders ; his clothing 
merely consisted of trousers sewn with horsehair, fastened round the loins by a belt 
of untanned leather, and tied at the ankles. A tomahawk and a scalping-knife — 
w. apons which the Indians never lay aside — hung from his belt, and he leant with 
careless grace upon a long rifle of American manufacture. The hunter bowed, and 
after stretching out his arm, with the palm turned down and the fingers straight, 
said in a gentle voice, “ Wah I the Wacon !ah protects me, since the first persorr 1 
see on returning to my people is Sparrowhawk.” 

The young Indian bowed with native courtesy, and replied in a guttural voic^ 
which, however, was very gentle : “ For a long time the sachems have been informed 
of the coming of the Great Bear of their nation ; they thought that only one chief 
was worthy saluting Stronghand on his return.” 

“ I thank the sachems of my nation,” the hunter said, with a meaning glance at 
the majordomo. “ Will my son return to the village with us, or will he precede us ? ” 

“ Sparrowhawk will go ahead, in order that the guest of Stronghand, my father 
may be received with the honours due to a man wiro coiucs in the company of tha 
Greac Bear,” 


The Atepetl. 


hS 


** My brother will act as becomes a chief. Stronghand will not detain him.” 

The young Indian bowed his head in assent, leapt backwards, and disappeared in 
the thicket whence he had emerged with such rapidity that, if the grass had not 
continued to undulate after his departure, his apparition would have seemed like a 
dream. 

“ We can now start again,” the hunter said to the majordomo. 

** Let us go,” the latter answered, mechanically. 

They crossed the plain, following a wild-beast track which, after numberless wind- 
ings, reached a ford, and in about an hour they arrived at the bank of the river. 
Twelve Papazo Indians, dressed in their war-paint and mounted on magnificent 
horses, were standing motionless and in single file in front of the ford. So soon as 
they perceived the two travellers, they uttered loud thouts and dashed forward to 
meet them, firing their guns, brandishing their weapons, and waving their white 
female buffalo-robes, which only the most renowned taohems of the nation have the 
right to wear. The two white men, on their side, spurred their horses, responding to 
the shouts of the Indians, and firing their guns. All at once, at a signal from one 
of the chiefs, all the horsemen stopped, and arranged themselves round the travellers, 
to aa as an escort* 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE ATEPETL. 

Many persons Imagine that all Indians are alike, and that the man acquainted with 
the manners of one tribe knows them all. This is a serious error, which it is im- 
portant to dissipate. Among the aborigines of America will be found as many differ- 
ences in language, dialect, &c., as among the nations of the old continent, if not 
more. The number of dialects spoken by the Indians is infinite ; the manners of one 
nation form a complete contrast with those of another living only a few leagues 
away ; and any person who, after travelling for some time in the Far West, asserted 
that he was thoroughly acquainted with the character of the Indians and their mode 
of life would be quite deceived; and, more serious still, would deceive those whom he 
pretended to instruct. 

The confederation of the Papazos was composed of several nations, combining 
both Indios Mansos and Indios Bravos. The latter, though harmless, and conse- 
quently nomadic, had, in the heart of unexplored forests or the gorges of the Sierra 
Madre, their winter villages — a collection of huts made of branches, and covered with 
mud, where, in the event of war, their squaws found refuge, and which served them, 
after an expedition, to hide the plunder they had made. 

'I'he Gilenos, whose powerful nation was composed of one hundred and eighteen 
dist net tribes, each of which had its private totem or standard, formed the principal 
branch of the conferaiion of the Papazos. 

The Gilenos piously preserved the faith of their fathers, maintained their customs t 
among others that of never drinking spirituous liquors ; and never permitted the 
Mexican Government to establish antong them tliat system of annoyance and rapine 


5^ 


^froniihffnfii 


under which it mercilessly bows the other Indian mansos. The Gileno villag'es ar® 
distinguished from all the others by their singular construction, which admirably 
displays the character of this people. 

Stronghand had pointed out to the majordomo clusters of storeyed houses, suspcr-rded 
as it were from the flank of the hill. But those houses were only built tempo/, 4 iriIy, 
and in case of an attack on the village would be immediately destroyed. Th.-e hill, 
doubtless in consequence of one of those natural convulsions so coiiin.v^i,^ in these 
regions, was separated into two parts by a qucLiaJjiyf cnyiliiuus depth, which served 
as the bed of an imjtetuous toucut. On either side of this quebrada the Indians had 
built an enormous coiimytction, of pyramidal shape, upwards of two hundred feet in 
height. TUcae two towers contained the lodgings of the inhabitants, their granaries 
find storehouses. More than eight hundred beings, men, women, and children, 
resided in these singular buildings, which were connected together at the top by a 
bridge of llianas, boldly thrown across the abyss. These towers could only be 
entered by a ladder, which was drawn up every night ; for as a last and essential 
precaution, the doors were sixty feet from the ground, in order to guard against 
surprise. 

The travellers were conducted with great ceremony by the chiefs, who had come to 
receive them at the entrance of the village, to the square, on one side of which stood 
'the “ ark of the first man ” ; on the other, the *• great medicine-lodge, or council- 
hut.” During the ride the majordomo fancied he saw among the crowd several 
individuals belonging to the white race, and mentioned it to his comrade. 

“You are not mistaken,” the latter replied; “several Mexicans reside in the village 
and trade with the Indians. Stay, here is a monk.’* 

la fact, at this moment a stout, rubicund monk crossed the square, distributing 
blessings right and left. 

“These worthy brothers,” the hunter continued, “lead here a rather monastic 
life, but in spite of the trouble they take, they cannot succeed in making proselytes. 
The Comanches are too attached to their religion to accept another ; still they have 
peimitted them to buil 1 a chapel, a very poor and simple edifice, in which a few- 
passing adventurers offer up their prayers ; for the inhabitants of the village never 
set foot in it.” 

“ 1 will go to it,” said Paredes. 

“ And you will act rightly. However. I will do this justice to the four monks who, 
through a love of proselytism, have confined themselves to this forgotten nook, of 
stating that they bear an excellent reputation.” 

“ But now that war is declared, what will become of these monks.” 

“ They will remain peacefully, without fearing insult or annoyance. However 
savage the Indians may be, th.ey are not so savage, be assured, as to make the inno- 
cent suffer for the guilty.” 

“ Forgive me, Stronghand, if I remark that I notice, with sorrow, in your 
mode of expressing yourself, a certain bitterness which seems to me un. 
just.” 

“ I allow that I am wrong, my friend. When you know me better, you will be 
indulgent, I doubt not. But here we are at the square.” 

The plaza, which the travellers now reached, formed a parallelogram, and 
rose with a gentle ascent to the foot of the tower on the left of the village. 
Several streets opened into it, and the houses built on either side of it had an 
appearance of cleanliness and comfort which is but rarely found in Indian 
villages ; and if this pueblo had been inhabited by white creoles, it would cer- 
tainly have obtained the title of ciudad. In front of the co-ancil-lodge stood 
three men, whom it was easy to recognise as the principal chiefs of the village 
by their hats of racoon-skin, surrounded by a gold golilla, and the silver-mounted 


The AtepetL 


5 ? 


cane, like that of our beadles, which they held t*" their right hand. These three 
chiefs, therefore, ostensibly held their power fiom the Mexican Government, 
but in reality the latter had only obeyed the feudal claims of the tribes assem- 
bled at this village, by conferring the authority on these men whom their 
countrymen had long previously recognised as chiefs. 

The procession halted before the alcaldes, or, to use the Indian term, the 
sachems. The latter were men of a ripe age, with a haughty and imposing 
mien. The eldest of them, who stood in the centre, had in his look and the 
expression of his features something indescribably majestic. He appeared 
about sixty years of age ; a long white beard fell in snowy flakes on his chest ; 
his tall form, his broad forehead, his black eyes, and slightly aquiline nose, ren- 
dered him a very remarkable man. 

This personage did not belong to the Indian race, as could be seen at the first 
glance ; but in addition the fine, elegant, nervous type of the pure Spanish race 
could be noticed in him. The majordomo could not check a start of surprise 
at the sight of this man. He leant over to Stronghand and asked him in a low 
voice, choked by involuntary emotion, “ Who is that man ?” 

*' You can see,” the hunter replied ; “ he is the alcalde mayor.” 

Paredes held his tongue, though his eyes were obstinately fixed on the man 
to whom the hunter had ironically given the title of alcalde mayor. A little to 
the rear of the chiefs a warrior was holding a totem of the tribe, representing a 
condor, the sacred bird of the Incas. 

“Fathers of my nation,” he said, “ the Great Bear of our tribe has returned, 
bringing with him a pale-face, his friend.” 

“ He is welcome,” the three chiefs answered, unanimously, “ as well as his 
friend, whoever he may be.” 

The hunter then advanced, and bowed respectfully to the sachems. 

“ Thanks for myself and friend,” he said ; “ the journey we have made was 
long, and we are worn with fatigue.” 

The Indians were astonished to hear the hunter, a man of iron power, whose 
reputation for vigour was well established among them, speak of the fatigue he 
felt. But understanding that he had secret reasons for asking this, no one 
made a remark. 

“ Stronghand and his friend are free to proceed to the calli,”one of the chiefs 
answered. 

The two adventurers bowed respectfully, and, preceded by Sparrowhawk, 
passed through the crowd, which opened before them, and proceeded to the callli 
appointed for them. So soon as the travellers reached the calli, Sparrowhawk 
retired, after whispering a few words in the ear of t e hunter. The latter replied 
by a sign of assent, and then turned to the majordomo. 

“ You are at home, comrade,” he said to him ; “ use this house as you think 
proper. I have to see a person to whom I will introduce you presently. I will, 
therefore, leave you for the present.” 

And without waiting an answer, the hunter turned his horse, and started at a 
gallop. 

“ Hum I ” the Mexican muttered, “ all this is not clear ” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE SPY. 

Apter installing the majordomo in the calli, Stronghand proceeded through 
the village, taking an apparently careless glance around, but in reality not let- 
ting anything escape his notice. The Indians whom the hunter met addressed 
him as an old acquaintance ; the very women and children tried to attract his 
attention by their hearty bursts of laughter and their greetings of welcome. 
For all and for each the hunter had a pleasant remark, and thus satisfied the 
frequently indiscreet claims of those who pressed around him. Thus occupied, 
he went right through the village, and, on reaching the foot of the left-hand 
pyramid, dismounted, walked up to the ladder, and, after waving his hand to 
the Indians, hurried up it, and disappeared inside the pyramid. 

This strange building, which was almost shapeless outside, was internally 
arranged with the utmost care and most perfect intelligence. The hunter, who 
was doubtless anxious to reach his destination, only took a hurried glance at 
the rooms he passed through ; he went up an internal staircase, and soon 
reached the top of the pyramid. Sparrowhawk was standing motionless before 
a cougar’s skin hung up in lieu of a door, and on seeing the hunter he bowed 
courteously. 

“ My father has not delayed,” he said, with a good-tempered smile. 

“ Has the council begun yet ? ” Stronghand asked. 

“ For four suns the elders of the nation have remained without taking rest 
round the council-fire.” 

“ Cannot I speak to the great sachem for a moment ? ” the hunter asked. 

“I cannot give my father any information on that point.” 

“ Good 1 ” the hunter continued ; “ has Sparrowhawk no instructions ? ” 

Without replying Sparrowhawk raised the curtain and allowed thw hunter to 
pass into the council-hall. 

In a large room, which was entirely destitute of furniture — unless that name 
can be given to dried buffalo-skulls employed as seats — some twenty persons 
were gravely seated in a circle, smoking a calumet silently, whose mouthpiece 
constantly passed from hand to hand. In the centre of the circle was a golden 
brasier, in which burned the sacred fire of Montezama, which must never go' 
out. 

The presence of this fire in the room, which was generally kept in a subter- 
raneous vault, inaccessible to the sight of the common herd, and which is only 
shown to the people on grand occasions, proved the gravity of the matters the 
council had to discuss. 

Thunderbolt, the old man whose portrait we have drawn, presided over the 
assembly. On the entrance of Stronghand all the warriors rose, turned to him, 
and, after bowing gracefully, invited him to take a seat among them. The 
hunter, flattered in his heart by the honour done him, bowed gravely to the 
members of the council, and seated himself on the right of Thunderbolt, after 
handing his weapons to Sparrowhawk. There was a rather long silence, during 


The Spy. 


59 


which the hunter smoked the calumet which had been eagerly offered him. At 
length Thunderbolt began speaking. 

“ My son could not arrive at a better moment,” he said, addressing Strong- 
hand ; “ his return was eagerly desired. He has, without doubt, some news.” 

“ I have been among the Gachupinos. I have entered their towns, I have 
seen their pueblos, presidios, and posts ; like ourselves, they are preparing for 
war ; they understand the extent of the danger which threatens them.” 

“ The news is not very explicit ; we hoped that Stronghand would give us 
more serious information,” Thunderbolt remarked. 

" The white men have a proverb,” said the young man, “ whose justice I 
specially recognise at this moment, and this is, ‘ Words are silver, but silence is 
gold.’” 

“ Which means ? ” Thunderbolt continued, eagerly. 

“ The most formidable weapon of the white man is treachery,” the hunter con- 
tinued, not appearing to heed the interruption ; “ they have even conquered by 
treachery the red-skins, whom they did not dare meet face to face. 

“ We cannot act otherwise than we are doing. Yes, and that is why the 
whites are cleverer than we. So soon as war is declared, they appoint a com- 
mission, composed of three members, or five at the most, who have to draw np 
the plan of the campaign. Why do we not do the same ? ” 

Aher bowing to the audience the hunter sat down again, and seemed to be 
plunged into deep thought. One of the instinctive qualities of the Indians is 
good sense. Thunderbolt questioned the members of the council by a glance ; 
all replied by an affirmative shake of their heads. 

“ Your plan is adopted,” the chief said ; “ we recognise the necessity of 
carrying it out. But this time again we must apply to you to choose the mem- 
bers of the council.” 

' “ Chance alone must decide the solution. All the sachems collected in this 

hall are great braves of their tribes. No matter on whom the lot falls, the 
members will behave honourably.” 

“ Stronghand has spoken well, as he always does when he is called upon to 
give his opinion in the council of the chiefs ; now let him finish what he has so 
well begun.” 

“ Be it so ; I will obey my father.” 

The hunter rose and left the hall, but his absence lasted only a few minutes. 
During this interval the chiefs remained motionless and silent. Stronghand 
soon returned, followed by Sparrowhawk. 

“ In this blanket,” the hunter then said, “ I have placed a number of bullets 
equal to that of the chiefs assembled in council. I have taken these bullets 
from the ammunition-bag of every one of the chiefs. I have noticed that our 
guns are of different bores, and hence some of the bullets are larger, others 
smaller. Each of us will draw a bullet haphazard ; when all have one, they 
will be examined; and the three chiefs, if you fix on that number, or the five, if 
you prefer that number, to whom chance has given the largest bullets, will com- 
pose the new council.” 

The chiefs bowed their assent. 

“ But,” the sachem continued, “ before we begin drawing, let us first settle of 
how many members the council shall consist ; shall there be three or five ? ” 

“ If I may be allowed,” said a white trapper, “ to offer my opinion on such a 
matter before wise men and renowned warriors, I would call your attention to 
the fact that, with a committe whose duties are so serious, three men are not 
sufficient to discuss a question advantageously, because it is so easy to obtain a 
majority. On the other hand, five men mutually enlighten each other by ex- 


6o 


Stronghand, 


changing ideas. I will add one word : Will the white and half-breed hunters 
and trappers here present take part in the election ? ” 

“ Do they not fight with us ? ” Thunderbolt asked. 

“ That is true,” the Whistler continued ; “ still it would be, perhaps, better 
for you to settle the matter among yourselves ; we are, in reality, only your 
allies.” 

“ You are our brothers and friends, in the name of the chiefs of the confede- 
ration. I thank you, Whistler, for the proposal you have made.” 

“ You will do as you please. I spoke for your good.” 

While these remarks were exchanged between the trapper and Thunderbolt, 
the chiefs had decided that the military commission should be composed of five 
members. The drawing at once began ; each warrior went, in his turn, to draw 
a bullet from the bag held by Sparrowhawk ; then the verification was begnn 
with that good faith and impartiality which the Indians display in all their 
actions when dealing with one another. 

When the election was over, just as the chiefs were returning to their seats, 
Stronghand approached a trapper, who, ever since his entrance had seemed to 
shun his eye. Tapping him on the shoulder, he said in a low but imperative 
voice, “ Master Kidd, two words, if you please.” 

The adventurer started at the touch, but turned his smiling face to the 
hunter’s, and said, “ I am quite at your service, caballero ; can I be so happy as 
to be able to help you ? ” 

“ Yes,” the hunter answered, drily. 

“ Speak, caballero, speak ; and as far as lies in my power ” 

A truce to these hypocritical protestations,” said Stronghand. 

“ I am listening to you,” the other said, trying to hide his anxiety. 

“Then leave the tower at once, mount your horse, and be off.” 

“ Allow me,” the bandit said, “ to remark, my dear senor, that the idea seems 
to me a singular one.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” the hunter remarked, coldly; “ well, opinions differ.” 

“ Of course you are jesting ?” 

“ Do you fancy me capable of jesting — before all, with a man like you f 
Well, be off ! I advise you for your own good.” 

“ I must have an excuse for such a flight. What will my friends the hunters 
suppose ? ” 

“ That does not concern me ; I want you to be off at once ; if not ” 

“ Well ? ” 

“ I shall blow out your brains in the presence of all as a traitor and a spy.” 

The bandit started violently ; his face became livid, and for some minutes he 
fixed his viper eye on the hunter, who examined him ironically ; then bending 
down to his ear, he said, in a voice choked with rage and shame, “ Strong- 
hand, you are the stronger, and any resistance on my part would be mad ; I 
shall go, therefore ; but remember this, I shall be avenged,” 

Stronghand shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE COUNCIL OF THE SACHEMS. 

The chiefs resumed their seats, and the council, which had been momentarily 
interrupted, was re-opened by Thunderbolt. The Indians, though people think 
proper to regard them as savages, could give lessons in urbanity and good 
breeding. Each speaks in his turn. The speakers, who are listened to with a 
religious silence, have the liberty of expressing their ideas without fearing per- 
sonalities, which are frequently offensive. When the debate is closed, the 
speaker — that is to say, the oldest chief, or the one of the highest position either 
through bravery or wisdom — sums up the discussion in a few words, takes the 
opinion of the other chiefs, who vote by nodding their heads, and the minority 
always accepts, without complaint or recrimination of any sort, the resolution 
of the majority. 

“ Now,” said Stronghand, “ I believe that the moment has arrived to strike 
the grand blow for which we have so long been preparing. Our enemies hesi- 
tate ; they are demoralised ; their soldiers tremble ; and I am convinced they 
v/ill not withstand the attack of our and the great Beaver’s warriors. This is 
what I wished to say to the council.” 

A flattering murmur greeted the concluding remarks of the young man, who 
sat down, blushing. 

“ It appears to me,” the Whistler then said, “ the debate need not be a long 
one. As war is decided on, the council of the confederation has only to seek 
allies among the other Indian nations, in order to augment the number of our 
warriors, if that be possible.” 

Thunderbolt rose. 

“ Chiefs and sachems of the confederation of the Papazos,” he said, in his 
sympathetic and sonorous voice, “ and you, warriors, our allies, the moment 
for dissolving your council has at length arrived. Henceforth the committee 
of the five chiefs will alone sit. Each of you will return to his tribe, arm his 
warriors, and order the scalp-dance to be performed round the war-post ; 
but the eighth sun must see you here again at the head of your war- 
riors.” 

The chiefs rose in silence, resumed their weapons, and immediately left the 
Tillage. Thunderbolt and Stronghand were left alone. 

“ My son,” the old man then said, “ have you nothing to tell me P” 

" Yes, father,” the young man respectfully answered ; I have very serious 
news for you.” 

But before describing the conversation between Thunderbolt and Stronghand, 
we are obliged to go back and tell the reader certain facts which had occurred 
at the Hacienda del Toro a few days before the majordomo set out for Hermo- 
sillo. Mexican girls, born and bred on the Indian border, enjoy a liberty which 
the want of society renders indispensable. Always on horseback upon these 
immense estates, which extend for twenty or five-and-twenty leagues, their life 
is spent in riding over hill and dale, visiting the wretched huts of the vaqueros 


62 


Strong hand. 


and peons, relieving their wants, and rendering themselves beloved by their 
simple graces and affecting goodness of heart. 

Dona Marianna, who had been exiled for several years at a convent, so soon 
as she returned home, eagerly renewed her long rides through forests and 
prairies, to see again the persons in her father’s employ with whom she had 
sported as a child, and of whom she had such a pleasant recollection. 

Most usually Dona Marianna guided her horse to a rancho situated about 
three leagues from the hacienda, in the midst of a majestic forest of evergreen 
oaks and larches. This rancho, which was built of adobes, and whitewashed, 
stood on the bank of a stream, in the centre of a field sufficiently cleared to 
grow the grain required for the support of the poor inhabitants of the hovel. 
In the rear of the rancho was an enclosure, serving as a corral, and containing 
two cows and four or five horses, the sole fortune of the master of this rancho, 
which, however, internally was not so poverty-stricken as the exterior seemed to 
forebode. It was divided into three parts, two of which served as bed-rooms, 
and the third as sitting-room, saloon, kitchen, &c. In the latter, the fowls impu- 
dently came to pick up grain and pieces of tortillas which had been allowed to 
fall. 

This rancho had been for many years inhabited by the same family, who 
were the last relics of the Indians dwelling here when the country was discovered 
by the Spaniards. These Indians, who were con verted to Christianity, had been 
old and faithful servants of the Marquises de Moguer, who were always attached 
to them, and made it a point of honour to heighten their comforts, and give 
them their protection under all circumstances. Hence the devotion of these 
worthy people to the Moguer family was affecting, through its simple self- 
denial. 

At the moment when we introduce this family to the reader, it consisted of 
three persons : the father, a blind old man, but upright and hale, who, in spite 
of his infirmity, still traversed all the forest-tracks without hesitation or risk of 
losing himself, merely accompanied by his dog Bouchaley; the mother, a 
w’oman about forty years of age, tall, robust, and posessing marked features, 
which, when she was younger, must have been very handsome ; and the son, a 
young man about twenty, well-built, and a daring hunter, who held the post of 
tigrero at the hacienda. 

Luisa Sanchez had been nurse to Dona Marianna, and the young lady, de- 
prived at an early age of her mistress, had retained for her that excessive 
friendship which children generally have for their nurse, and which at times 
renders the mother jealous. The maiden’s return to the hacienda caused great 
joy at the rancho ; father, mother, and son at once mounted and proceeded to 
the toro to embrace their child, as they simply called her. 

Since then not a day passed on which the young lady did not carry the sun- 
shine of her presence to the rancho, and shared the breakfast of the family— a 
frugal meal, composed of light cakes, roasted on an iron plate, boiled beef sea- 
soned with chile Colorado, miik, and quesadillasy or cheese-cakes, hard and 
green and leathery, which the young lady, however, declared to be excellent, and 
heartily enjoyed. Bouchaley, like everybody else at the rancho, entertained a 
feeling of adoration for Dona Marianna. He was a long-haired black-and- 
white mastiff, about ten years old, and spiteful and noisy like all his congeners. 

Marianno Sanchez, the tigrero, had for his foster-sister an affection heightened 
by the similarity^ of name— a similarity which in Spanish America gives a right 
to a sort of spiritual relationship. This touching custom, whose origin is 
entirely Indian, is intended to draw closer the relations between tocayo and 
tocaya, and they are almost brother and sister. 


The Council of the Sachems. 


63 


It was about eleven o’clock in the morning; the sun illumined the hut ; the 
birds were singing merrily in the forest. Father Sanchez had taken up the 
handmill, and was grinding the wheat, while his wife, after sifting the wheat, 
pounded it, and formed it into light cakes, called tortillas, which, after being 
griddled, would form the solid portion of the breakfast. Bouchaley was at his 
post on the road, watching for the arrival of the young lady. 

“ How is it,” the old man asked, “ that Marianno is not here yet ? ” 

“ Poor lad ! who knows where he is at this moment ? ” the mother answered. 
“ He has for some days been watching a band of jaguars. I only trust he will 
not be devoured some day by the terrible animals.” 

“ Nonsense, wife,” said the old man. “ Marianno devoured by the' 
tigers ! ” 

“ Well, I see nothing impossible in that.” 

“ You might just as well say that Bouchaley is capable of chasing a peccari ; 
one thing is as possible as the other. Besides, you forget our son never goes out 
without his dog Bigote.” 

“ I do not say no, father,” she continued, with a shake of the head ; “ that 
does not prevent 'his being a dangerous trade. 

“ Stuff ! besides, the trade is lucrative ; each jaguar-skin brings him in four- 
teen piastres — a sum we cannot afford to despise, since my infirmity prevents 
me from working. It would be better for my old carcase to return to the earth, 
as I am no longer good for anything.” 

“ Do not speak so, father ; especially before our daughter.” 

“ Well, tell me, wife,” the old man said, laughingly, “ was I devoured by the 
jaguar ? And yet I was a tigrero for more than forty years.” 

“ That is true ; you have not been devoured, but your father was.” 

“ Hem 1 ” the old man went on ; “1 will answer — I will answer ” 

“ Nothing ; and that will be the best,” she continued. 

“ Nonsense ! What do you take me for, mother ? If my father was devoured, 
and that is true, it was ” 

“ Well, what P I am anxious to hear.” 

“ Because they were treacherously attacked by the jaguars,” he said, with a 
triumphant air ; “ the wretches knew whom they had to deal with, and so 
played cunning.” 

The ranchera shrugged her shoulders with a smile, but she considered it 
unnecessary to answer, as she was well aware she would not succeed in making 
her husband change his opinion. The old man, satisfied with having reduced 
his wife to silence, did not abuse his victory. 

All at once Bouchaley was heard barking furiously. The old man drew 
himself up in his butacca, while Na Sanchez rushed to the doorway, in which 
Dona Marianna appeared, fresh and smiling. 

“ Good morning, father ! good morning, mother ! ” she exclaimed, in her 
silvery voice. “ Come, Bouchaley, come, be quiet ! ” she added, patting the 
dog. “ Mother, ask my tocayo to put Negro in the corral, for the good animal 
has earned its alfalfa.” 

“ I will go, Querida,” the old man said, “ for to-day I take Marianne’s 
place.” 

“ Mother,” the young lady continued, where is my foster-brother. I trust 
he will soon be here.” 

The mother sighed deeply. 

The maiden looked at her for a moment sympathetically. 

“ What is the matter, mother ? ” she said j “ can any accident have 
happened ? ” 


6 + 


Stronghand, 


“ The Lord guard us from it, Querida ! ” Luisa said, clasping her hands. 

“ Still, you are anxious, mother. You are hiding something from 
me,” 

“ Nothing, my child. Nothing extraordinary has occurred. But ” 

“ But what ? ” Dona Marianna interrupted her. 

“ Well, since you insist, Querida, I confess to you that I am alarmed. You 
know that Marianno is tigrero to the hacienda ? ” 

“Yes. What then?” 

“ I am always frightened lest he should meet with an accident.” 

“ Come, come, mother ; do not have such thoughts. Marianno is an intrepid 
hunter.” 

“ Ah, hija, you are of the same opinion as my old man.” 

“ Oh, mother, why talk in that way ? Marianno, I hope, runs no danger.” 

“ May you be saying the truth, dear child ! ” 

“ I am so convinced of it that I will not sit down till he arrives.” 

“ Well, you will not have to wait long, hijita,” the old man said. 

In fact, the furious gallop of a horse echoed in the forest, and approached 
with the rapidity of a hurricane. The two females darted to the door. At this 
moment a horseman appeared on the skirt of the clearing, riding at full speed, 
with his hair floating in the breeze, and his face animated by the speed at 
which he rode. This horseman, who was powerfully and yet gracefully built, 
and had a manly, energetic face, was Marianno, the tigrero. His dog, a black- 
and-white Newfoundland, with powerful chest and enormous head, was running 
by the side of the horse, and looking up intelligently every moment. 

“ Viva Di^ ! Querida tocaya ! ” the young man exclaimed. “ I am glad to 
see you, fot I was afraid that I should arrive too late. Bigote,” he added, 
addressing his dog, “ lead Moreno to the corral.” 

The dog immediately proceeded thither, followed by the horse, while 
Marianno and the two females returned to the rancho. The young man kissed 
his father’s forehead, and took his hand, saying, “ Good morning, papa 1 ” and 
then returned to his mother. 

“ Cruel child 1 ” she said to him ; “ why did you delay so long ? ” 

“ Pay no attention to what your mother says,” the old man remarked. 

“ Fie ! you must not say that 1 ” the young lady exclaimed ; “ you would do 
better in scolding Marianno, for I, too, felt alarmed.” 

“ Do not be angry with me,” the young man replied ; “ 1 have been for some 
days on the track of a family of jaguars.” 

“ Are they about here ? ” 

“ No ; they are prowlers brought here by the drought, and are the more 
dangerous because they do not belong to these parts.” 

“ I only hope they will not think of coming here,” the mother anxiously 
remarked. 

“ I do not believe they will, for wild beasts shun the vicinity of man. Still, 
Dona Marianna had better, for some days to come, restrict her rides.” 

“ What can I have to fear ? ” 

“ Nothing, I hope ; still it is better to act prudently. Wild beasts are animals 
whose habits it is very difficult to discover.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” the young lady said ; “ you are trying to frighten me.” 

“ Do not believe that. I will accompany you with Bigote to the ha- 
cienda.” 

The dog, which had returned to its master’s side after performing its duties, 
wagged its tail, and looked up in her face. 

“ I will not allow that, tocayo,” the young lady replied • “ let Bigote have a 


Lost ! 


«5 


rest. I came alone, and will return alone ; and mounted on Negfro, I defy th« 
tigers to catch me up.” 

“ Still, nina ” Marianro objected. ' 

“ Not a word more on the subject, tocayo, I beg. Let us breakfcist, for 1 ait 
literally dying of hunger,” 


CHAPTER XIX. 

LO ST I 

They sat down to table ; but the meal, in spite of Dona Marianna’s efforts t« 
enliven it, suffered from the anxiety which two of the party felt. The tigrero 
was vexed with his foster-sister for not letting him accompany her, for he had 
not liked to express his fears, lest the young lady on her return to the hacienda 
might meet the ferocious animals he had been pursuing for some days. 

The jaguar, which is very little known in Europe, is one of the scourges ol 
Mexico. It is the great wild-cat of Cuvier, and is called indiscriminately “the 
American tiger,” and the “ panther of the furriers.” It is a quadruped of the 
feline race ; its total length is about nine feet, and its height about twenty-seven 
inches. Its skin is handsome, and in great request ; while of a bright tawny 
hue on the back, it is marked on the head, neck, and along the flanks with 
black spots ; the lower part of the body is white, with irregular black spots. 

Such were the animals the tigrero had been pursuing for the last few days, 
and had not been able to catch up. According to the sign he had found, the 
jaguars were four in number — the male, female, and two cubs. We can now 
understand what the young man’s terror must be on thinking of the terrible 
dangers to which his foster-sister ran a risk of being exposed on her return to 
the hacienda ; but he knew Dona Marianna too well to hope he could make her 
recall her decision. 

As always happens under such circumstances. Dona Marianna, seeing that 
no one referred again to the jaguars, was the first to talk about them, asking 
her foster-brother the details of their appearance in the country, and the mis- 
chief they had done, in what way he meant to surprise them, and a multitude 
of other questions, to which the young man replied most politely, but limiting 
himself to brief answers, and without launching into details, which are generally 
so agreeable to a hunter. 

Several hours passed in laughing, talking, and singing. When the moment 
for departure at length arrived, Marianno went to the corral to fetch the young 
lady’s horse, saddled it with the utmost care, and led it to the door of the 
rancho, after saddling his own horse, so that he might start so soon as Dona 
Marianna was out of sight of the rancho. 

“ You remained a long time in the corral, tocayo,” she said, with a laugh 

“ Nina,” he said, “after saddling your horse, I saddled mine.” 

“ Of course you are going to hunt your strange jaguars again ?” 

“ Oh, of course,” he answered. 


66 


Stronghand, 


** Well,” she said, “ if you do meet them, pray do not miss them.” 

“ I will avoid that, because I desire to make you a present of their skins." 

The maiden, still laughing, embraced the ranchero and his wife, bounded 
lightly into the saddle, and, bending down gracefully, offered her hand to 
Marianno. 

Then she gave a parting wave of the hand to her nurse, and started off at a 
gallop. Tl.e young man, after watching her for a while, to be certain of the 
road she followed, then re-entered the rancho, took his gun, and loaded it with 
all the care which hunters display in this operation when they believe that life 
depends on the accuracy of their aim. 

“ Are you really about to start at once ? ” his mother asked him. 

“ Yes, to follow my foster-sister to the hacienda, without her seeing me.” 

“That is a good idea. Do you fear any danger for her ? ” 

“ Not the slightest. But it is a long distance from here to the hacienda ; the 
Indians are moving, it is said.” 

“ Excellently reasoned. The nina is wrong in crossing the forest alone.” 

“ Poor child 1 ” the ranchero said ; “ an accident happens so easily ; lose no 
time, muchacho, but be off.” 

But the young man was no longer listening to his father ; so soon as his gun 
was loaded he left the rancho, followed by his dog. 

So soon as the young lady found herself at a sufficient distance from the 
rancho she had checked her horse’s pace, which was now proceeding at an 
amble. 

Dona Marianna, whose mind was impressionable, and open to all sensations, 
gently yielded to the impressions of the scene, which was so full of ineffable 
harmony, and, gradually forgetting where she was and surrounding objects, had 
fallen into a voluptuous reverie. 

Dona Marianna had rather a long ride through the forest before reaching the 
plain ; but she had so often ridden the road at all hours of the day, she was so 
thoroughly persuaded that no danger menaced her, that she let the bridle hang 
on her horse’s neck, while she plunged deeper and deeper into the delicious 
reverie which had seized on her. In the meanwhile the shades grew deeper ; 
the birds had concealed themselves in the foliage and ceased their songs ; the 
sun had disappeared, and the hot red beams it had left on the horizon were 
beginning to die out; the wind blew with greater force through the branches, 
which uttered long murmurs; the sky was assuming deeper tints, and night was 
rapidly approaching. Already the shrill cries of the coyotes rose in the unex- 
plored depths of the forest. 

All at once a long, startling, strident howl, bearing some resemblance to the 
mewling of a cat, burst through the air. Dona Marianna looked up, and took 
an anxious glance around her. She had lost her way. A person lost in an 
American forest is dead ! 

The maiden tried to find the route by which she had come, but the road 
followed haphazard through the herbage no longer existed ; the grass trodden 
by her horse’s hoof had sprung up again behind it. Moreover, the night was 
so dark that Dona Marianna could not see four paces ahead of her ; and she 
soon found that her efforts to find the road would only result in leading her 
further astray. Under such circumstances a man would have been in a com- 
paratively far less dangerous position. He could have lit a fire to combat the 
night chill, and keep the wild beasts at bay ; in the event of an attack, his 
weapons would have allowed him to defend himself; but Dona Marianna hrd 
not the means to light a fire ; she had no weapons, and, had she possessed 
them, she would not have known how to use them. She was forced to remaiu 


Lost ! 


67 




motionless at the spot where she was for the whole night, at the hazard of dying 
of cold and terror. 

Her horse, whose bridle she had not let loose, was standing motionless by 
her side. The maiden gently patted the noble animal, the only friend left to 
her; then, by a sudden inspiration, she began unfastening the girths. 

" Poor Negro,” she said, in a soft voice, as she removed the trappings, “you 
must not be the victim of my imprudence ; resume your liberty, for the noble 
instinct with which your Creator has endowed you will perhaps enable you to 
find your road. Go, my poor Negro ; you are now free.” 

The animal gave a whinneying of delight, made a prodigious leap, and dis- 
appeared in the darkness. Dona Marianna was alone — really alone now. 

It is impossible to imagine what terrors night brings with it under its thick 
mantle of mist, when the earth is no longer warmed by the sparkling sunbeams, 
and darkness reigns as supreme lord. At that time everything changes its 
aspect, and assumes in the flickering rays of the moon a fantastic appearance ; 
che mountains seem loftier, the rivers wider and deeper ; the trees resemble 
spectres — gloomy denizens of the tomb, watching for you to pass, and ready to 
clutch you in their fieshless arms. The imagination becomes heated, ideas 
grow confused, you tremble at the fall of a leaf, at the moaning of the night 
breeze, at the breakage of a branch ; and, suffering from a horrible nightmare, 
you fancy at every momerrt that your last hour is at hand. 

Without dwelling further on the subject, the reader can imagine without 
difficulty the painful situation in which Dona Marianna found herself. So long 
as she could hear the sound of her horse’s hoofs, as it fled at full speed, she 
stood with her body bent forward and outstretched ears, attaching herself to 
life, and, perchance to hope, through the sound which was so familiar to her ; 
but when it had died out in the distance, when a leaden silence once again 
weighed on her, the maiden shuddered, and, folding her hands on her chest, 
sank in a half-fainting condition at the foot of a tree — no longer thinking or 
hoping, but awaiting death. 

How long did she remain plunged in this state of prostration, which was only 
an anticipated death— one hour or five minutes? She could not have said. 
All at once a feeble, almost indistinguishable, sound smote her ear, and she 
instinctively listened. This sound grew louder with every second, and ere long 
she could not be mistaken ; it was a rapid mad gallop through the forest. This 
sound Dona Marianna recognised with terror ; for it was produced by the 
return of her horse. For the noble animal to come back with such velocity it 
must be pursued, and that closely, by ferocious animals. The horse gave a 
snort of terror, which was immediately answered by two loud, sharp growls. 
Then, as if dreaming. Dona Marianna heard prodigious leaps ; she saw ill- 
omened shadows pass before her with the rapidity of a lightning flash, and 
then a fearful struggle, in which groans of agony were mingled with yells of 
delight. 

However terrible the maiden’s position might be she felt the tears slowly 
course down her cheeks— her horse, her last comrade, had succumbed — the 
liberty she had granted it had only precipitated its destruction. 

Fortunately for the girl, the jaguars — for there were several of them — were 
to leeward ; moreover, they had tasted blood, and this was a double reason 
which temporarily saved her, by depriving their scent of nearly all its delicacy. 

All at once the animals, which had hitherto been greedily engaged with the 
carcase of the horse, without thinking of anything beyond making a hearty 
meal, raised their heads and began sniffing savagely. Dona Marianna saw 
their eyes, sparkling like live coals, fixed upon her j she understood that she 


68 


Stronghand. 


was lost ; instinctively she closed her eyes to escape the fascination of those 
metallic eyeballs, which seemed in the darkness to emit electric sparks, and 
prepared to die. Still the jaguars did not stir ; they were crouching on the 
remains of the horse, and, while continuing to gaze at the maiden, gracefully 
passed their paws over their ears with a purr of pleasure— in a word, they were 
coquettishly performing their toilet, appearing not only most pleased with the 
meal tliev had just ended, but with that which was awaiting them. 

Still, in spite of the calmness affected by the two animals, it was evident that 
for some unknown motive they were restless ; they lashed the ground with their 
weighty tails, or laid back their ears with a roar of anger, and, turning their 
heads in all directions, sniffed the air. They scented a danger ; but of what 
nature was it ? 

At the same instant a flash traversed the air — a shot echoed far and wide — 
and the male jaguar writhed on the ground with a roar of agony. Almost 
immediately a man dashed from the tree at the foot of which Dona Marianna 
was crouching, stood in front of her, and received the shock of the female, 
which, at the shot, had instinctively bounded forward. The man tottered, but 
for all that kept his feet ; there was a frightful struggle,* and then the jaguar 
fell back with a last and fearful yell. 

“ Come,” the hunter said, as he wiped on the grass the long machete with 
which he had stabbed the beast, “ my arrangements were well made, but I fancy 
that I arrived only just in time. Now for the cubs.” 

Then this man, who seemed to possess the faculty of seeing in the darkness, 
walked without hesitation towards the spot where the female had hidden her 
cubs. He resolutely entered the thicket, and came out again almost immedi- 
ately, holding a cub in either hand. He smashed their heads against the trunk 
of a tree. 

“ That is a very tidy butchery,” he said ; “ but what on earth is Don 
Hernando’s tigrero about that I am obliged to do his work ? ” 

While saying this the hunter had collected all the dry wood within reach and 
struck a light. The stranger then hurried to the assistance of Dona Marianna, 
who had fainted. 

“ Poor girl 1 ” he muttered, with an accent of gentle pity, as he lifted her in 
his arms and gently laid her on some firs he had arranged for her bed, and 
gazed at her for a moment with a look of delight impossible to describe. But 
then he felt considerably embarrassed. He knew how, at a pinch, to dress a 
wound or extract a bullet, but he was quite ignorant how to bring a fainting 
woman round. 

“ Still, I cannot leave her in this state, poor girl 1 But what am I to 
do?” 

At length he knelt down by the young lady’s side, gently raised her lovely 
head, which he laid on his knee, and, opening with his dagger-point her closed 
lips, poured in a few drops of Catalonian refino contained in a gourd. The 
effect of this remedy was instantaneous ; she heaved a sigh, and opened her 
lips. At the first moment she looked around her wildly, but ideas seemed 
gradually to return to her brain ; her contracted features grew brighter, and 
fixing her eyes on the hunter, who was still bending over her, she muttered, 
with an expression of gratitude which made the young man’s heart beat, 
Stronghand 1 ” 

“ Have you recognised me, senorita ? ” he exclaimed. 

“ Are you not my Providence ? ” she answered. 

“Oh, senorita 1 ” he murmured, in great embarrassment. 

“ Thanks 1 thanks, my saviour 1 ” she continued, seizing his hand ; “ thanks 


L-^tl 


69 


for having come to my help, Stronghand. I should have been lost without 
you.” 

“ I really believe,” he said, with a smile, “ that I arrived just in time.” 

“ But how is it you came so opportunely ? ” she asked, curiously. 

“ Oh,” said the hunter, “ it is very simple. 1 have been hunting in these 
parts for some days past. I had tracked this family of jaguars, which I ob- 
stinately determined to kill, I know not why. After pursuing them all day, I 
had lost them, and was seeking their trail, when your horse enabled me to 
recover it.” 

“ What 1 — my horse ?” she exclaimed, in amazement. 

“ Do you not remember that it was I who gave you this poor Negro ? ” 

That is true,” she murmured, as she let her eyes fall. 

“I saw you for a moment this morning when you were going to Sanchez’ 
rancho.” 

“ Go on,” she remarked. 

“ On seeing the horse, which I at once recognised, I feared that some acci- 
dent had happened to you, and set out after it. But the jaguars had scented 
it at the same time. Luckily, they were hungry, and amused themselves by 
devouring poor Negro.” 

“ But how is it that you came by this strange road ? ” 

“ In the first place, I was bound to save your life.” 

“ But you ran the risk of being torn in pieces by the horrible animals,” she 
said, with a shudder. 

“ That is possible,” he said ; “ but I should have died to save you.” 

The maiden made no reply. Pensive and blushing, she bowed her head on 
her chest. The hunter thought that he had offended her, and also remained 
silent and constrained. At length Dona Marianna raised her head. 

” Thank you again 1 ” she said, with a gentle smile. ” Your heart is good. 
You did not hesitate to sacrifice your life for me, whom you scarce know.” 

“ I am too amply repaid for my services by these words, senorita,” he replied, 
with marked hesitation ; “ still I have a favour to ask you.” 

“ Oh, speak, speak 1 tell me what I can do 1 ” 

“ I know not how to explain it ; my request will appear to you so strange.” 

“ Speak ; for I feel convinced that the favour you pretend to ask of me is 
merely another service you wish to render to me.” 

“Well, senorita,” said Stronghand, “it is this: should you ever, for any 
reason neither you nor I can foresee, need advice, or help of a friend, either 
for yourself or any member of your family, do nothing till you have seen me.” 

“ Be it so,” at length said Dona Marianna ; “ I promise. But how am I to 
find you?” 

“Your foster-brother is my friend ; you will request him to lead you.” 

All at once a loud noise, resembling the passage of a wild beast, was heard 
in the forest glade ; the maiden started, and instinctively clung to the hunter. 

“ Fear nothing, senorita,” the latter said ; “do you not recognise a friend ? ” 

At the same moment the tigrero’s dog leaped up to fondle her, followed 
almost instantaneously by Marianno. 

“ Heaven be blessed ! ” he said, joyfully, “ she is saved 1 " 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE RETURN. 

We must now explain how it was the tigrero arrived too late. He had started 
believing Marianna to be ahead of him until darkness set in. Then the dark- 
ness was, indeed, so thick, that in spite of all his exertions, he could distinguish 
nothing a few paces ahead of him. 

The tigrero halted, dismounted, placed his ear on the ground, and listened. A 
moment later he heard, or fancied he heard, a distant sound resembling a 
horse’s gallop. As he was only two leagues from the Hacienda del Toro, he 
soon reached the foot of the rock. While unable to form any decision, he saw 
a black outline gliding along the path, and soon distinguished a horseman 
coming towards him. 

“ Buena noche, caballero'' he said, when the latter crossed him. 

“ Dios la de a usted buena,^' the other politely replied. 

Ah ! ” the horseman said. “ How is No Marianno ? ” 

“ Very well,” the tigrero answered ; “ and you. No Paredes P Are you going 
to the rancho ? ” 

“ Yes ; the senor marquis has sent me.” 

“ Would there be any indiscretion in asking what you are going to do ? ” 

“ Not the slightest, compadre. I am simply going to fetch Dona Marianna, 
who has remained to-day later than usual with her nurse.” 

This revelation was a thunder-clap for the young man. 

“ What ! ” he exclaimed, “ is not Dona Marianna at the hacienda ? ” 

“ No ! ” said Paredes, beginning to grow anxious in his turn. “ What do 
you mean ? ” 

“ I mean that Dona Marianna left the rancho full three hours ago ; that I 
followed her without her knowledge to watch over her safety, and that she 
must have been at the hacienda for more than half an hour.” 

Without losing time in longer argument the two men dashed up the rock at 
a gallop, and in a few minutes reached the gate of the hacienda. No one had 
seen Dona Marianna. The alarm was instantly given ; Don Hernando wished 
to ride off at the head of his people, and beat up the country in search of his 
daughter, and itwas with great difficulty that he was induced to abandon the project. 

Marianno had an idea of his own. When he was quite certain that his 
foster-sister had not returned, he presumed the truth — that she was lost in the 
forest. The tigrero let Don Ruiz, the majordomo, and the peons pass him, and 
then beat his steps towards the rancho, closely followed by his dog, in spite of 
the exhortations of his young master, and No Paredes, who wanted to accom- 
pany them. When he was in the forest he stopped for a moment, as if to look 
round him ; then, after most carefully examining the spot where he was, he 
dismounted, fastened his horse’s bridle to the pommel, tied the stirrups together 
to keep them from clanking, and gave his horse a friendly smack on the 
crupper. 

“ Go along, Moreno,” he said to it ; “ return to the rancho,” 


The Return. 


71 


The horse turned its fine intelligent h^ad to its master, gave a neigh of plea- 
sure, and started at a gallop in the direction of the rancho. The tigrero care- 
fully examined his gun, and began inspecting the ground by the light of a torch. 
Bigote, gravely seated on its hind legs, followed its master’s every movement. 
After a lengthened search, the tigrero whistled to his dog, which at once ran up. 

“ Bigote,” he said, “ smell these marks ; they were made by the horse of 
your mistress, Marianna.” 

The noble animal did as its master ordered. 

“ Good, Bigote 1 good, my famous dog 1 ” the tigrero continued ; “ and now 
let us follow the trail.” 

The dog hesitated for a moment, then it set out with its nose to the ground, 
closely followed by its master ; both reached the spot where the horrible drama 
we recently described occurred. 

“ When I heard Stronghand’s shot,” the tigrero added, as he concluded his 
narrative, “ I experienced a sound of deadly agony. Well, tocaya, will you > 
now believe in the jaguars ? ” 

“ Oh, silence, Marianno ! ” the young lady said, with a shudder ; “ I almost 
went mad with terror. Oh ! had it not been for this brave and honest hunter 
I should have been lost.” 

“ Brave and honest, indeed!” the tigrero said, with frank affection; “you 
are right, senorita, for Stronghand might justly be called Goodheart.” 

Dona Marianna listened with lively pleasure to this praise of the man who 
had saved her life, 

“ Come, come, Marianno,” Stronghand said, in order to cut short the young 
man’s compliments, “ we cannot remain here any longer.” 

“ Carai, master, you are right, as usual ; but what is to be done ? I am 
strong,” said the senorita ; “ under your escort, my friends, I fear nothing.” 

“ No, senorita,” the hunter said, with an accent of gentle authority, “your 
Strength would betray your courage.” 

“ Very good,” she answered ; “ act as you think proper.” 

“ That is right,” the tigrero said. “ What are we going to do. Strong- 
hand ? ” ^ 

“ While you skin the jaguars — I suppose you do not wish to leave them ” 

“ What 1 ” the tigrero interrupted him, “ those skins belong to you.” 

“ Pooh ! ” the hunter said, with a laugh, “ I am not a tigrero ; the skins are 
yours.” 

“ Since that is the case I will not decline ; but as, for my part, I promised to 
give my foster-sister the skins to make a rug, I will beg her to accept them,” 

“ Very good,” she answered ; “ they will remind me of the danger I incurred.” 

“ That is settled, then,” the hunter said. 

Hunters and trappers are skilful and most expeditious men; in a few minutes 
Marianno had skinned the jaguars, and Stronghand formed a litter ; the skins, 
after being carefully folded, were securely fastened on the back of Bigote, who 
did not at^all like the burden imposed on him. Stronghand covered the litter 
with leaves and grass, over which he laid the saddle-cloth of the horse the 
jaguars had devoured ; then he requested the young lady to seat herself on this 
soft divan, and the two men, taking it on their strong shoulders, started in the 
direction of the hacienda. 

Although the hunters had, from excess of precaution, formed torches of 
ocote-wood to help them, the darkness was so complete — the trees were so close 
together- that it was with extreme difficulty that they succeeded in advancing 
in this inextricable labyrinth. They had been marching for a long distance, 
and the forest seemed as savage as when they started. 


•32 


Stronghand, 


“ Do you believe,” Dona Marianna asked, “ that we are on the right road P ” 

“ Even admitting, senora,” the hunter said, “ that Marianno and myself 
were capable of falling into an error, we have with us an infallible guide in 
Bigote.” 

“Within ten minutes, senorita,” the tigrero said, “we shall enter the 
road.” 

All at once the two men stopped. At the same m'^ment Dona Marianna 
heard shouts. 

“ Forward ! forward ! ” said Stronghand ; “ let us not leave your relatives and 
friends in anxiety longer than we can help.” 

In ten minutes they reached the road to the hacienda. 

“ What shall we do now ? ” Marianna asked. 

“ I think that we ought to announce our presence by a cry for help.” 

“Yes,” she said, “I think we ought to do so; for otherwise we run a 
risk of reaching the hacienda without meeting any of the persons sent to seek 
me.” 

“ You are right, nina ; for all these worthy people are attached to you.” 

“ That is a further reason why we should hasten to announce our return,” the 
young lady answered. 

The two hunters, after consulting for a moment, uttered together that long 
shrill yell, which, in the desert as in the mountains, serves as the rallying cry, 
and may be heard for an enormous distance. Almost immediately the whole 
forest seemed to be aroused; similar cries broke out in all directions, and the 
hunters noticed red dots running with extreme rapidity between the trees, and 
all converging on the spot where they stood, as if they radiated from a common 
centre. In a few minutes all the persons were assembled round the litter on 
which the young lady reclined ; and Don Ruiz and the majordomo were not 
long ere they arrived. 

“Brother,” Dona Marianna said to Don Ruiz, “ if you find me still alive 
you owe it to the man who before saved us both from the pirates of the 
prairies.” 

“ Where is he ? ” Don Ruiz asked — “ where is he } that I may express my 
gratitude.” 

But he was sought for in vain. 

“ Why this flight ? ” Dona Marianna murmured, with a stifled sigh ; “ does 
this strange man fear lest our gratitude should prove too warm P ** 


CHAPTER XXL 

CHANCE WORK. 

Dona Marianna’s return to the hacienda was a real triumphal procession. The 
peons, delighted at having found their mistress again safe and sound, gaily 
bore her on their shoulders, laughing, singing, and dancing along the road. 


Chance JP'nrh. 


73 


not knowing how otherwise to express their joy, and yet desirous to nrake her 
comprehend the pleasure they felt. 

The marquis, who was suffering the most frightful agitation, had gone to 
the last gate to meet them, and would possibly have gone further still had not 
Don Ruiz taken the precaution, so soon as his sister was found, to send off a 
peon to tranquililse his mind and announce the successful result. 

The maiden threw herself with an outburst of tears into her father’s arms, 
and at length, yielding to her feelings, fainted — an accident which, by arousing 
the anxiety of the spectators, cut short all the demonstrations. 

In spite of the offer of No Paredes, who invited him to spend the night at 
the hacienda, the tigrero would not consent ; and after freeing Bigote from the 
jaguars’ skins, which seemed to cause the dog considerable pleasure, they both 
started gaily for the rancho. It was about two o’clock a.m., and a splendid 
night, and the tigrero was walking at a steady pace, when, just as he was 
enteiing the shadow of the forest, Stronghand suddenly emerged from a 
thicket. 

“ Hilloh ! ” the tigrero said, on recognising him ; “ where the deuce did you 
get to just now ? ” 

“ Do you fancy,” replied the hunter, “ that it is very pleasant to be stared at 
by those semi-idiotic peons ? ” 

“ Well, opinions are free, compadre, and I will not argue with you, but where 
on earth are you going at such an hour ?” 

“ Looking for you, to ask hospitality for a few days.” 

“ Our house is not large, but sufficiently so to contain such a guest.” 

“ I thank you, gossip, but I shall not abuse your complaisance.” 

“ As you please, Stronghand ; the door of my humble rancho is ever open to 
you.” 

All was settled in a few words. The two men continued their walk, and 
soon reached the rancho. The tigrero led the hunter to his bedroom, where 
they lay down side by side, and soon fell asleep. 

One day, about a week aRer the scene with the jaguars, the hunter was lying 
half-asl ep in a copse whose leafy branches completely hid him from sight, and 
quietly enjoying his siesta during the great mid-day heat, when he fancied he 
heard the sound of footsteps. He instinctively opened his eyes, raising him- 
self on his elbow, and looked carefully around him ; he checked a cry of surprise 
on recognising Kidd, the bandit. 

“ What does that scoundrel want here ? ” the hunter asked himself. He if 
doubtless plotting some infamy.” 

In the meanwhile Kidd removed his horse’s bit, and, sitting down on a rock, 
lit a husk cigarette. Stronghand racked his brains in vain to try and discover 
the motive for the presence of the bandit in these parts. Suddenly a sound 
made him turn his head, and he saw a stout horseman, with rubicund face, 
coming up at an amble. When he reached the adventurer, the latter rose, and 
bowed respectfully. 

“ Ouf 1 ” the stout man said, with a sigh of relief, “ what a ride ! ” 

“ Well,” the bandit replied, “ you must blame yourself, Don Rufino, for you 
arranged it.” 

“ Everybody is the best judge of his own business. Master Kidd,” Don Rufino 
remarked. 

“ That is possible ; but if I had the honour to be Don Rufino Contreras, 
enormously rich, and senator to boot, hang me if I would put myself out o£ 
my wav to run after an adventurer like Master Kidd.” 

“ Ha' ! ha I scoundrel ; you have scented something.” 


74 


Stronghand, 


' “ Hang it ! ” the bandit replied, “ I am well aware that whatever attractions 

my conversation may offer, you would not have come this distance expressly to 
hear it.” 

“ That is possible, scamp. However, listen to me.’ 

“ I can see from your familiarity that the job will be an expensive one. 

“ Enough of this,” said the senator, “ let us come to facts.” 

“ I ask nothing better.” 

“ I want to know, scoundrel, whether in a case of necessity you would kill a 
man for money ? ” 

” Killing a man is nothing when you are well paid for it.” 

“ I will pay one thousand piastres. Is that enough ? ” 

“ It is not too much.” 

“ Confound it, you are expensive.* 

“ That is possible ; but I do my work. Tell me who the man is P ” 

“Jose Paredes, the majordomo at the Toro.” 

“ Do you know that he is not an easy man to kill. You owe him a 
'grudge.” 

“I do not know him.” 

You do not know him, and yet offer one thousand piastres for his death P 


Nonsense 1 ” 

“ It is so.” 

“ But you must have a reason ; a man is not killed without.” 

“ Listent to me attentively, in two or three days the majordomo will leave for 
Hermosillo, carrying bills to a considerable amount.” 

“ Good,” the bandit said ; “ I will kill him as he passes.” 

“ No, you will let him go in peace, and you will kill him on his return.” 

That is true. Where the deuce was my head ? ” 

**You will deliver to me the sum this man is the bearer of,” said Don 
Rufino. 

“ I suppose the sum is large ? ” said the bandit. 

“ Fifty thousand piastres.” 

“ Viva Dios ! Surrender such a fortune? I would sooner be burned alive.” 

“ Nonsense,” the senator remarked, contemptuously. “ For you will then 
lose two thousand piastres.” 

Suddenly the bandit’s eyes gleamed with a sinister flash; he drew himself 
up, and leaped, knife in hand, upon the senator. But the adventurer had a 
powerful adversary. Don Rufino had long known the man he was treating 
with, and, while conversing, had not once taken his eye off him. Hence, 
though Kidd’s action was so rapid, Don Rufino was before him ; he seized his 
arm with his left hand, while with the right he placed a pistol to his chest. 

“ Hilloh, my master,” he said, “ are you mad, or has a wasp stung you P ’* 

“ Let me loose 1 ” said the bandit savagely. 

“ Not before you have thrown your knife away, scoundrel 1 ” 

Kidd opened his hand, the knife fell on the ground. 

“You are not half clever enough,” said Don Rufino, sarcastically; “you 
deserve to have your brains blown out.” 

“ I do not always miss my mark,” replied the bandit. 

There was a moment of silence between the two men. 

“ Have you reflected ? ” at length asked Don Rufino. 

“ Well, I accept,” said Kidd, sullenly. 

. “ But you understand,” the senator continued ; “no trickery this time ? ** 

“ No, no,” Kidd answered, with a shake of the head ; “ you may be sure of 
tliat.” 


Father and Son. 


75 


“ I reckon on your honesty. Moreover, profit by what has occurred to-day. 
1 am not always so good tempered.” 

“ All right,” said the bandit, shrugging his shoulders savagely ; “ there is no 
need to threaten, as all is settled. Where shall I come to you after the busi> 
ness ? 

“ Do not trouble yourself about that. I shall manage to find you.” 

“Very good. Give me the money.” 

The senator drew from his pocket a long purse, through whose meshes gold 
coins could be seen. He weighed it for an instant in his hand, and then threw 
it twenty paces from him. 

“ Go and fetch it,” he said. 

The bandit dashed at the gold, which as it fell produced a ringing sound. 

“ Good-bye,” said Don Rufino to the bandit. “ Remember 1 ” and he started 
at a gallop. 

“ All right,” said Kidd, with a smile upon his features, as he hid the purse in 
his bosom. “ No matter,” he added, “ I allow that I am in your power, demon; 
but if ever I had you in my hands as you had me to-day, and I manage to dis- 
cover one of your secrets, I should not be so mad as to show you any mercy.” 

So soon as he was alone, the hunter rose. 

“ Oh, oh 1 ” he muttered, “ that is a dark plot. That man cannot want to 
kill Paredes merely to rob him.” 


CHAPTER XXII. 

FATHER AND SON. 

Now that we have given the reader all necessary information about the events 
accomplished at the Hacienda del Toro, we will resume our narrative at the 
point where we were compelled to leave it — that is to say, we will return to the 
village of the Papazos, and the conversation between Thunderbolt and Strong- 
hand. 

Stronghand was not surprised to hear that the great and general rising of 
the Indians had been decided on, but his horror and grief may be imagined 
when he found that it was intended to capture the Hacienda del Toro as their 
headquarters. 

His emotion was so great that his mother partially guessed his secret, and 
when, having heard all, he bowed to his father, and went out, she whispered, 
“ Hope.” 

Still Stronghand quitted the pyramid in a state of indescribable agitation. 
The word his mother had whispered in his ear at parting incessantly recurred 
to his mind, and led him to suppose that Dona Esperanza, with that miracu- 
lous intuition Heaven has given to mothers, that they may discover the most 
hidden feelings of their children, had divined the secret he fancied he had 
buried in the remotest corner of his heart. It was with difficulty he could 


restore some degree of order in his ideas, and resume his coolness and self- 
mastery before he reached his own door. Two men were standing there— 
Whistle and Peccari. 

“ Come along,” the trapper shouted ; “ we have been waiting for a long 
while.” 

“ Waiting for me ? ” he asked, in surprise. 

“Yes. Sparrowhawk warned us, on the part of Thunderbolt, that the chief 
and myself were to hold ourselves in readiness to escort the man wno entered 
the village with you wherever he thinks proper to go.” 

“ What else has happened ?” 

“ Nothing, except that Thunderbolt has made this man a present of a mule, 
laden with rich wares, as Sparrowhawk says.” 

Stronghand entered, and found the majordomo busily engaged in making his 
preparations for a start. 

“You are welcome, comrade,” he said. “ Carai ! you are a man of your 
word, so forgive me.” 

“ Forgive you for what ? ” the young man asked, with a smile. 

“ When I saw you leave me this morning in this hole, like a useless or 
noxious animal, I doubted your sincerity ; and 1 was on the point of running 
away.” 

“ You would have done wrong.” 

“ Carai ! I see it now ; hence I feel quite confused at my folly, and beg you 
once again to forgive me.” 

“ Nonsense,” the hunter said, with a laugh, “ it is not worth while to torment 
yourself about such a trifle. An escort of resolute men will accompany you to 
the hacienda, and as your master will not ask you what may have happened to 
you on your journey, I think it unnecessary for you to give him any details.” 

“ Be easy. Ah ! that reminds me that, as I have received the money from 
you, you must have the bills. Here they are, and once again I thank 
you.” 

The hunter took the bills and concealed them in his bosom. There was a 
moment of silence. The majordomo walked about the calli with an air of 
embarrassment. 

“ Come,” asked the hunter, “ what else is there that troubles you, my 
friend ? ” 

“ On my faith,” the Mexican replied, “ I confess that I should be delighted 
to prove my gratitude to you for the service you have done me.” 

“ Is that all? ” the hunter said. “ It is a very easy matter.” 

“ Is it ? ” he remarked, with surprise. “ Well, you will not believe that I 
have been racking my brains over it for more than half an hour ? ” 

“ Because you seek badly, my friend, that is all ; you know that I frequently 
hunt in your parts ? ” 

“Yes; I am aware of that.” 

•* Well, the first time I find myself near you, I will come and ask hospi- 
tality. ” 

“ Ah ; that is what I call a good idea.” 

“ I take you at your word ; so that is settled.” 

“ Very good. Now I shall start happy. Come by day or night, as you may 
think proper, and you will always be welcome.” 

“ I fancy it would be difficult to get into the hacienda by night.” 

“ Not at all. You will only have to mention my name.” 

Several days elapsed, and nothing of an interesting nature occurred in the 
village. The military committee sat several hours during the interval. The 


The IFhite-SJdns, 


11 


plan of the coming campaign was definitively arranged, and the collection of 
the Indian forces was the only thing that delayed the outbreak of hostilities. 

At last the Papazos chiefs had succeeded in collecting beneath their totems 
30,000 warriors, all mounted on excellent horses, and about 4,000 armed with 
guns. It IS true that the Indians, though so skilful in the use of the axe, the 
^nce, and the bow, are deplorable marksmen, and have an instinctive dread of 
firearms, which prevents their taking a proper aim. Still, some of them suc- 
ceed in attaining a relative skill, and are dangerous in a fight. But the greatest 
strength of the Indian army consisted of the sixty or eighty white and half- 
breed hunters, whom the hope of plunder had induced to join them. 

Thunderbolt, while retaining the supreme command of the army, appointed 
three chiefs as generals of division ; they were Sparrowhawk, Whistler, and 
Peccari. Stronghand took the command of twenty-five white hunters, whom 
he selected among the bravest and most honourable, and was entrusted with a 
special mission by his father. All being then in readiness to begin the 
war, the Indians, according to their invariable custom, only awaited a moonless 
night to invade the territory of their enemies. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE WHITE-SKINS. 

The return of Jose Paredes to the hacienda caused Don Hernando a lively 
pleasure. Still, the sum he brought, though considerable, was far from sufficing 
for the constant outlay in working the mine, and would hardly cover the 
demands of the moment. Don Rufino ( id not in any way show the amazement 
the sight of the majordomo occasioned him. 

He knew it would take three weeks to proceed from the hacienda to Hermo- 
sillo and back, even at a good pace, and yet the majordomo had only been 
absent for nine days. It was evident to the senator that Paredes had not been 
to Hermosillo, and yet he brought back the money. 

He was supposed to be ignorant of the motive of the majordomo’s journey, 
and consequently could not interrogate him ; and, again, Paredes would prob- 
ably not have answered him, or, if he had done so, it would only have been in 
mockery, for the worthy majordomo, with the infallible scent which upright and 
faithful men possess, had detected the wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

In Sonora, as in other countries, it is not easy to meet at a moment’s notice 
persons who will discount large bills to render you a service. The man who 
had given the money for these must be very rich, and most desirous to assist 
the marquis. However much the senator thought of the subject, he could not 
call to mind any landowner for fifty leagues round capable of acting in such a 
way. Moreover, the discounter must have been aware of the plot formed 
against the majordomo, for otherwise he would not have proposed to take the 
bills. 


78 


Stronghand. 


« The red-skins are right,” he muttered, “ and their proverb is true. In the 
desert trees have ears, and leaves have eyes. I remember that my conversation 
with that picaro of a Kidd took place near a very close-growing thicket ; perhaps 
it contained a traitor. Henceforward I will only discuss business at the top of 
an entirely unwooded hill.” 

All these reflections the senator made while walking in extreme agitation 
up and down the room, when the door opened, and Don Ruiz made his 
appearance. 

“ Senor Don Ruflno,” he said to him, “ will you kindly come to the drawing- 
room ? Our majordomo has brought most important news.” ^ ^ ^ 

The senator started, and gave a suspicious glance ; but nothing in Don Ruiz’s 
open face caused him to suppose any hidden meaning. 

“ Is anything extraordinary happening, my dear Don Ruiz ? ” he asked, and 
then followed Don Ruiz to the saloon, where Dona Marianna, the marquis, and 
J ose Paredes were already assembled. 

“ What is the matter ? ” the senator asked ; “ Don Ruiz has startled me.” 

“You will be more startled when you know the events,” the marquis 
answered. “ Speak, majordomo.” 

“ The Papazos have allied themselves with I know not how many other tribes 
of ferocious pagans.” 

“ Caspita ! that is serious,” the senator said. 

“ Much more than you suppose ; for the Indians are this time resolved to 
expel the white men for ever from Sonora,” answered Paredes. 

“ Oh, oh,” Don Rufino said ; “ they are undertaking a rude task.” 

“ Laugh if you like, but it is so.” 

“ I do not laugh, my worthy friend.” 

“ In the first place, I am not your friend, senor,” the majordomo said, 
roughly ; “ and next, it is probable that when you have seen the Indians at 
work your opinions about them will be modified.” 

“ I never saw any wild red-skins, and Heaven preserve me from doing so. 
Still, I strongly suspect the inhabitants of this country of making them more 
formidable than they really are.” 

“You are wrong to have such an opinion, my friend, and if you remain any 
time with us will soon have proof of it,” the marquis said. 

“ Are you going to remain here ? ” Dona Marianna asked, with terror. 

“ We have nothing to fear from the Indians,” the marquis replied. “ The 
rock on which my hacienda is built is too hard for them.” 

“ Still, father, we cannot be too prudent,” Don Ruiz observed. 

“ You are right, my son ; and as I do not wish your sister to retain even a 
shadow of anxiety, we will immediately place ourselves in a position of defence, 
though it is unnecessary.” 

“ Do not neglect any precaution,” Paredes replied. 

“ Come, come,” Don Rufino asked, “ tell me who the person is that informed 
you ? ” 

“ It is enough that I know it, no matter the name of the man to whom I owe 
the information. If you fancy that it is a friend who warned me you will be 
near the truth.” 

“ Permit me, senor,” the senator answered. “ You must not thus create an 
alarm in a family and then refuse to give proofs.” 

“ My master knows me, senor ; he knows that I am devoted to him.” 

“ I do not doubt, senor, either your honesty or your truthfui«;iess. Still, a 
thing so serious as you announce requires proofs.” 

“ Stuff 1 stuff 1 the main point is to be on your guard.” 


The White- Skins. 


79 


” Yes, when we know whether we really ought to do so. Consequently, in 
my quality as a magistrate, I command you to reveal to me at once the name 
of the man who gave you these alarming news.” 

“ Nonsense 1 ” the majordomo said ; what good would it do if I were to tell 
you the name of an individual you do not know ? ” 

“ That is not the question. Be good enough to answer me, if you please.” 

“ It is possible that you may be a magistrate, senor, and I do not care if you 
are. I recognise no other master but the senor marquis.” 

“ Come, Paredes, answer,” the marquis said. “ I really do not understand 
you.” 

“ Since you order me to speak, mi amo,” the majordomo continued, “ tha 
person who told me of the insurrection is a white hunter, called Stronghand.” 

“ Stronghand 1 ” brother and sister exclaimed simultaneously. 

“ Is not that,” the marquis asked, “ the hunter to whom we already are so 
greatly indebted ? ” 

“ Yes, mi amo,” the majordomo replied, musingly. 

Although it was the first time the senator h^ard the hunter’s name mentioned, 
by a kind of intuition he felt a species of emotion for which he could not 
account. 

“ Oh ! ” Dona M rianna cried, “ we must place confidence in Stronghand’s 
statements.” 

“ Certainly we must,” Don Ruiz added. “ It is plain that he wished to 
warn us.” 

“ But who is this man who inspires you with such profound sympathy P” the 
senator asked. 

“ A friend,” Dona Marianna replied, warmly. 

" And whom we all love,” the marquis added, with emotion. 

“ Then you accept his bail for Paredes ?’' 

“ Yes ; and believe me, my friend, that I shall not neglect the advice he 
gives me.” 

“ Very good, senor ; you will therefore permit me to remark that Senor 
Paredes’ obstinacy in not revealing his name must fairly appear to me extra- 
ordinary.” 

“ Senor Rufino, Paredes is an old servant who enjoys a very pardonable 
freedom, and believes that he has acquired the right of being believed on his 
word. Now,” he added, “ let us discuss the means to prevent a surprise. How 
many peons have you under your orders, Paredes ? ” 

“ Excellency, we have about eighty able to bear arms and do active duty.” 

“ Oh, oh,” the marquis said, “ there are many more than we require ; I see 
that it will be unnecessary to summon our miners from Quitovar.” 

“ The more so,” Paredes objected, “because Captain de Niza, whose position 
is far more exposed than ours, will already have enlisted them in his service.” 

“ That is probable,” the marquis answered, as he rose. “ Go and carry out 
my orders without delay.” 

The majordomo bowed to his master, and went out. 

Will it please you, senor, to grant me a moment’s interview ? ” the senator 
then said. 

“ I am at your orders, senor.” 

“ Oh, do not disturb yourselves,” the senator said, addressing Don Ruiz and 
his sister, who had risen to leave the room ; “ I have nothing secret to say to 
the marquis.” 

The young people sat down again. 

1 confess to you that what this man has just said,” Don Rufino continued, 


So 


Strong hand. 


has greatly startled me. I should therefore wish, Don Hernando, to obtain 
your permission to leave you so soon as possible.” 

“ Leave me ! ” the marquis replied, with amazement, “ at this moment ?” 

“ Yes. It seems as if coming events will be very serious. I am not a man 
of war, nor anything like it, for I am frightened at anything that bears a like- 
ness to a quarrel.” 

“ Senor Don Rufino, you are at liberty to act as you please. Still, I fear that 
the roads are not quite safe.” 

“ I have thought of that ; but I fancy that when I reach Arispe I shall have 
nothing to fear. Will you allow Don Senor Ruiz to escort me ? ” 

“ I can refuse you nothing, senor. My son will accompany you, since you do 
him the honour of desiring his escort.” 

“ Yes,” the senator continued, taking a side glance at Dona Marianna, who 
had let he- head drop on her chest ; “ I wish to intrust Don Ruiz with an 
important letter for you.” 

“ Why write ? It would be far more simple to tell me what you wish in a 
couple of words.” 

“ No ! no I that is impossible,” Don Rufino answered, with a smile that 
resembled a grimace ; “ that would demand too much time ; moreover, dear 
sir, you know better than I do that there are certain things which can only be 
settled by ambassadors.” 

“ As you please, senor. When do you propose to start P ” 

I frankly confess that, in spite of the regret I feel at leaving you, I fancy 
the sooner I set out the better.” 

•• It is only ten o’clock,” said Don Ruiz, as he rose. “ By hurrying a little 
we can reach Arispe to-night.” 

“ Famous ! that is better. Allow me, Don Hernando, to take leave of you, 
as well as of your charming daughter, and pray accept my thanks for the noble 
hospitality I have received in your mansion.” 

“ What ! are you not afraid of travelling in the great heat of the day ? ” 

“ I only fear the sight of the Indians, and that fear is enough to make me 
forget all others. Excuse me, therefore, for leaving you so suddenly, but I feel 
convinced that I should die of terror if I heard the war-cry of those frightful 
savages echo in my ears.” 

Don Ruiz had left the room to give the requisite orders, and his sister 
followed him, after making a silent curtsey to the senator. The apprehension 
expressed by Don Rufino was great y exaggerated, if not entirely fictitious ; but 
he instinctively felt that the ground was beginning to burn beneath his feet at 
the hacienda, and he wanted to get away, to guard himself against the perils he 
foresaw from the ill success of his plot. 

After a few moments, Don Ruiz returned to state that the escort had 
mounted, and that all was ready for a start. Don Rufino repeated his farewells 
to the marquis, but the latter would not let him depart before he had drunk, 
according to the hospitable fashion of the country, the stirrup-cup — that is to 
say, a glass of iced orangeade. Then all three left the room, for, in spite of 
the entreaties and objections of the senator, his host insisted on accompanying 
him to the patio and witnessing his departure. Two minutes later Don Rufino 
Contreras, accompanied by Don Ruiz, and followed by six confidential peons, 
ivell armed and mounted, left the hacienda, and took the direction of Arispe, 
which they reached at nightfall, after a rather fatiguing journey, it is true, but 
which, however, was not troubled by any accident of an alarming nature. The 
only thing the travellers noticed, and which proved to them how thoroughly 
the news of an approaching invasion of the Indians had spread along the 


Serious Events, 


8i 


border, was the complete solitude of the country, which resemb'ed a 
liesert. 

Don Rufino contemplated with stupor the desolate aspect of the country. 
When they reached the gates of Arispe they found them closed and guarded by 
powerful detachments of soldiers and civicos — a species of national militia, 
paid by the rich inhabitants to repress the devastation of the marauders who 
swarm on the Indian border. It was only after interminable debates and infinite 
precautions that the barrier guards at length consented to let the travellers 
pass. 

Don Rufino possessed on the Plaza Mayor of Arispe a large and handsome 
mansion, at which he resided when business summoned him to Arispe. It took 
him more than an hour to reach it, owing to the numberless barricades. 


CHAPTER XXTV. 

SERIOUS EVENTS. 

On the very day when Don Ruiz, after escorting Don Rufino Contreras to 
Hermosillo, returned to the hacienda, a courier arrived simultaneously with 
him. This man, who was mounted on an utterly exhausted steed, had 
apparently ridden a great distance, and was in an excessive hurry. No sooner 
had he reached the Toro than he was introduced into the marquis’s study, with 
whom he remained shut up for a long time. Then the courier, on leaving 
the study, remounted his horse and set off again without speaking to a 
soul. 

The marquis, whose face was usually imprinted with an expression of sad 
and resigned melancholy, had, after this interview, become of a cadaverous 
pallor ; deep wrinkles furrowed his forehead, and his eyes stared wildly. He 
walked up and down for several hours in the yard in extreme agitation. 

Dona Marianna, seated at a window of her boudoir, behind a muslin curtain, 
followed her father’s movements, for she felt frightened at his state, and had a 
foreboding that she would have to share some of the sorrow which had fallen 
on him. A few minutes after a servant came to inform Dona Marianna that 
her father was awaiting her in the red chamber. ^ 

This red chamber, into which we have already had opportunity to introduce 
the reader, and which Don Hcrtiando had not entered since the day when his 
brother was so inexorably disinherited by their father, was as cold and gloomy 
as when we saw it. When Dona Marianna reached the red chamber she found 
her father already there ; he gave her a silent sign to take a seat. A few 
minutes after Don Ruiz entered, followed by Jose Paredes. The marquis then 
leated himself, and began in a feeble, trembling voice — 

“ My children, I have summoned you because we have to discuss matters of 
the deepest gravity. I have called to our council Paredes, and I trust you will 
not think that I have exceeded my rights in doing so.” 


Stronghand, 




The young people bowed their assent, Paredes placed himself by their side, 
and the marquis continued — 

“ My children, our family has for many years been tried by adversity. 
Hitherto, respecting the happy carelessness of childhood, I have sought to keep 
within my own breast the annoyances and grief with which I was incessantly 
crushed. Believe me, my children, I should have continued this conduct, and 
kept to myself all the cares and annoyances of such a life as I lead, but 
for a sudden, terrible, and irremediable misfortune which has fallen on mo 
to-day.” 

'1 he marquis stopped for a moment, overcome by the emotion which 
contracted his throat. 

“ Father,” Don Ruiz replied, “ you have ever been the best of parents to my 
sister and myself. Be assured that we have anxiously awaited this confidence, 
which has been so long delayed in the fear of causing us a temporary sorrow, 
for we hoped we might be able to assume a portion of the burden.” 

“ My son,” the marquis said, “ I know your heart and your sister’s. I am 
aware of the respectful affection you feel for me.” 

“ Be kind enough then, father, to tell us what the matter is without further 
delay.” 

“ Alas ! my son,” the marquis answered, “ for some years past fortune has 
been treating our house with incomprehensible severity ; everything is leagued 
against us, and our fortune, which was immense under the Spanish rule, has 
constantly diminished since the proclamation of Mexican independence. Still 
I had hoped a few days back that I should be able to render fortune more 
favourable to me. I foresaw a chance of saving some fngments of our old 
fortunes ; but to-day I have attained the melancholy conviction that 1 am 
entirely ruined.” 

“ Oh, things cannot be so bad as that, father ! ” Dona Marianna exclaimed. 

“ Yes, my children, we are ruined, ” the marquis continued, sadly. “ We 
have lost everything.” 

“ But how has such a great misfortune occurred ? ” 

“ Alas ! in the same way as misfortunes always happen when fate has resolved 
on ruining a man. For a long time past business has been in a state of col- 
lapse, owing to the disastrous negligence of the government ; and the news of 
the fresh revolt of the Indian mansos and bravos has raised the alarm of the 
merchants to the highest pitch. The panic is general among the bankers and 
persons whose capital is engaged in mines ; several houses have already sus- 
pended payment, and thus everything has been paralysed at a single blow. 
Then, to complicate matters even more, a pronunciamiento has taken place in 
Mexico.” 

“ Do you know this officially, father ?” 

“ Unfortunately I cannot entertain the slightest doubt on the subject. For 
this reason, under such circumstances as the present, one thing inevitably hap- 
pens. Creditors insist on the immediate repayment of their advanc-'s, while 
persons indebted to you, if they do not fail, defer payment so long that it is 
practically of no service. Now, the letters I received this morning, and they 
are numerous, may be -divided into two classes : my debtors refuse to pay me, 
while my creditors, fearing a loss, have taken out writs against me, and if I 
do not pay them within eight days the round sum of 380,000 piastres I shall 
be declared bankrupt, imprisoned, expelled from my estate, and this hacienda, 
the last thing left us, will be put up to auction, and probably purchased for a 
trifle by one of the ex-vassals of our family, who has grown rich at our expense, 
and does not blush to take our place.” 


Serious Events, 


83 


“ Three hundred and eighty thousand piastres 1 ” Don Ruiz muttered with 
•tupor. 

“ That is the amount.” 

“ How can we possibly get it together?” 

“ It is useless to dream of it for the present, my son. This hacienda alone is 
worth double. At other times X could have offered a mortgage, and as I have 
nearly 300,000 piastres owing to me, you see that I could have easily confronted 
this fresh stroke of fortune. But now it cannot be thought of ; it will be better 
to give way, and allow our creditors to divide the spoil. I hope you do not 
suppose, Ruiz, that I have the intention of defrauding my creditors of the little 
that is left me.” 

“ Oh no, father; but what do you propose doing?” 

“ Carai ! ” Paredes then said, “ this is easily settled. I possess, through the 
liberality of the Moguer family, a rancho, which owes nothing to anybody. It 
is yours, mi amo. My mother and I can easily find another shelter. Well, if 
this wretched lodging is not so fine or handsome as this, it will, at any rate, 
afford you a shelter, and save you from applying for it to strangers. Is it so, 
excellency ? Will you honour the old house of your servant by your presence ?” 

The marquis seemed to reflect for a moment, and then held out his hand to 
Paredes, who kissed it. 

“ Be it so, my friend. I accept your offer,” he said. “ Not that I intend to 
inconvenience you for any length of time, but merely during the few days I 
shall require to save, if possible, some fragments of my children’s fortune from 
the general shipwreck.” 

Do not think of us, father,” Dona Marianna said, with emotion. “ We are 
young, and can work.” 

Paredes was delighted with the acceptance of his offer. 

“ Oh, do not be frightened, mi amo," he said ; “ the old rancho is not so 
dilapidated and miserable as might be supposed. I trust, with the help of 
Heaven, that you will not be very uncomfortable there, and, at any rate, you 
will have no cause to fear the visits of certain parties.”, 

“ You are unjust, Paredes,” the marquis replied. " Don Rufino Contreras, 
to whom you allude, is one of my best friends, and I must speak of his 
behaviour in the highest terms of praise.” 

“ That is possible, mi amo, that is possible,” the majordomo said, shaking his 
head with an air of conviction ; “ but if I may be permitted to express an 
opinion about that gentleman, I fancy we had better wait awhile before fully 
making up our minds about him.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ Nothing, mi amo, really nothing. I have an idea, that is all.” 

“ That reminds me, father, that on leaving me Don Rufino gave me a 
letter, which he begged me to deliver to you as soon as 1 reached the 
hacienda.” 

“ Yes ; he informed me of his intention of writing.” 

Hum 1 ” the majordomo said, between his teeth, but loudly enough for the 
marquis to hear him ; “ I always had a bad idea of men who prefer blackening 
pa,.er to explaining themselves frankly in words.” 

During this aside, the marquis had opened and read the letter. 

“ This time, at any rate,” he said, “ Don Rufino cannot be accused of want 
of frankness, or of not explaining himself clearly. He warns me of the mea- 
sures taken against me, and after showing me, in the most gentlemanly manner, 
the precarious nature of my position, he ends by offering me the means of 
escaping from it in the most honourable way ; in one word, he asks for my 


84 


Stronghand. 


daughter’s hand, and offers her a dowry of one and a half million piastres, 
besides liquidating my debts.” 

Dona Marianna was crushed by the blow so suddenly dealt her. The mar- 
quis continued with the bitter accent he had hitherto employed — “ Such is the 
state we have reached, my children ; we, the descendants of a race of worthies 
noble as the king, a '.d whose escutcheon is unstained, have so fallen from our 
lofty social position that we are too greatly honoured by the offer of a maj 
whose grandfather was our vassal. But such is the way of the world, and why 
blame it when we live in an age in which everything is possible ? ” 

“ What answer will you give to this strange letter, father P ” Don Ruiz asked, 
anxiously. 

Don Hernando drew himself up proudly. 

“ My son,” he replied, “ however poor I may be, I do not the less remain the 
Marquis de Moguer, the only thing, perhaps, which cannot be taken from me. 

1 know the obligations I owe to the honour of my name. Your sister is free 
to accept or reject the offer made her. I do not wish, under any pretext, to 
influence her determination in so serious a matter. She is young, and has still 
many years to live ; I have no right to enchai* her existence with that of a man 
she does not love. She will reflect, and follow the impulse of her own heart. 
Whatever her resolution may be, I approve of it beforehand.” 

“ Thanks, father,” the maiden answered, gently. “ And now grant me a last 
favou-.” 

“ What is it, my child ?” 

wish for a week before answering this request, for I am so surprised and 
confused that it would be impossible for me to form any resolution at present.” 

“ Very good, my chUd ; in eight days you will give me your answer. And 
now withdraw ; but do you remain, Paredes ; before leaving the hacienda for 
ever, I wish to make some arrangements in which your help will be necessary.** 

Brother and sister, after bowing respectfully to their father, slowly quitted 
this fatal chamber, which persons never entered save through a misfortune. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

THE TIGRERO. 

Don Ruiz and his sister left the red chamber together, gloomy, sad, and des- 
pairing, and not daring to communicate their impressions, because they knew 
that they had nothing to hope from an exchange of conventional consolation. 
When they reached the hall whence ran the stairs leading to their different 
suites of rooms, Don Ruiz let loose his sister’s arm, and kissed her on the fore- 
head. 

“Courage, Marianna,” he said, gently. 

“ Are you leaving me, brother ? ” she remarked, with a slight tinge of reproach 
in her voice. 


The Tigrero, 


85 


“ Are you not going to your own room ? ” he asked her. 

“ And what do you intend doing ? ’* 

“ To tell you the ’honest truth, sister,” he replied, “after what has occurred 
in the red chamber, I feel in such a state of excitement that I want to breathe 
the fresh air ; did I not, I fancy I should be ill.” 

“ Do you propose going out, then ?” 

“ In leaving you, my dear sister, it is my firm intention to saddle Santiago 
and ride about the country for two or three hours.” 

“ If that be the case, Ruiz, I will ask you to do me a service.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ Saddle Madrina at the same time.” 

“ Your mare ?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And are you go^.^g out too ? ” 

“ I want to pay a visit to my nurse, whom I have not seen for a long time, 
I am anxious to speak a few words with her.” 

“ Will you go alone to the rancho ? ” 

“ Unless you give me the pleasure of your company.” 

“ Do you doubt it, sister ?” 

“ Yes and no, Ruiz.” 

“ Why this reticence ? ” 

“ I will explain it to you, brother. To be frank with you, I want to see my 
nurse, and I may spend the night at the rancho ; in the event of that happening, 
I do not wish you to make an attempt to dissuade me by entreaty or otherwise.” 

“ Reflect, sister, that the country is not tranquil, and that you may incur dan- 
ger in a wretched rancho, where any resistance would be impossible.” 

“ I have thought of that, and calculated all the chances. But I repeat to you, 
I must go to the rancho, and may be obliged to pass there not only a night, but 
a day or two.” 

Don Ruiz reflected for a moment. 

“ Sister,” he then said, “you are no ordinary woman, and everything you do 
is carefully calculated. Although you do not tell me the motives for this visit, 
I guess that they are serious, and hence will make no attempt to thwart your 
wishes. Act as you please, and 1 will do all you wish.” 

“ Thank you, Ruiz,” she answered, warm’y ; “ I anticipated you wou’d say 
that, for you understand me : my visit has a serious motive, as you have 
divined.” 

“ Then I will go and saddle the horses,” he replied, with a smile. 

“ Do so, brother,” she replied, as she gently pressed his hand. “ I will wait 
for you here.” 

“ I only require five minutes.” 

The young man went out. Dona Marianna leant on the balustrade and fell 
into deep thought. Don Ruiz returned, leading the horses by the bridle ; 
brother and sister mounted, and at once left the hacienda. It was about four in 
the afternoon ; the great heat of the day was spent, the birds were singing gaily 
beneath the foliage; the sun, now level with the lowest branches, had lost much 
of its heat ; and the coming breeze, which was beginning to rise, refreshed the 
atmosphere, and bore away the clouds of mosquitoes which had for several 
hours darkened the air. The young people galloped silently side by side, 
absorbed in their thoughts, and only taking absent glances at the splendid 
scenery unfolded around them as they advanced further into the country. They 
thus reached the rancho without exchanging a word. 

Bouchaley, faithful to his friends»iip for Dona Marianna, had long before 


86 


Strong/iand, 


announced her arrival to the inhabitants of the rancho, who had hurried out to 
welcome her. With a hurried glance, Marianna assured herself of the presence 
of her foster-brother, which seemed to cause her great satisfaction. 

“ Goodness 1 you here so late, nina?” the ranchero said, in his delight { 
“ what blessed wind has blown you ? " 

“ The desire of seeing you, madresita,” the young lady answered, with 
a smile ; “ it is so long since I embraced you that I could not wait any 
longer.” 

“ It is a good idea, nina,” the ranchero said ; “ unfortunately it is late, and 
we shall only be able to converse with you for a few moments.” 

“ How do you know, old father? ” she replied, as she leaped off her horse 
and threw her arms round his neckj “who told you I should not spend the 
night at the rancho ? ” 

“ Oh, oh, you would not do us that honour, nina,” the old man answered. 

“ You are mistaken, father, and the proof is that I ask my brother to leave 
me here and return alone to the hacienda.” 

“ Then I am discharged,” Don Ruiz said, laughingly. 

“ Yes, brother ; but you have no cause of complaint, for I warned you.” 

“That is true; hence I do not complain, little sister; still, before we part, tell 
me at what hour I am to come and fetch you to-morrow ? ” 

“ Do not trouble yourself about that, Ruiz ; Marianno will bring me home.” 

“ And this time I shall not behave as the last, nina : may the Lord confound 
me if I lose sight of you for a moment,” the tigrero said, as he took the horse’s 
bridle to lead it to the corral. 

“ Will you be so cruel, Marianna,” Ruiz observed, “as to force me thus to 
return at once ? ” 

“ No ; I grant you an hour to rest and refresh yourself, but when that time 
has elapsed you will start.” 

“ Agreed, little sister.” 

They entered the rancho : No Sanchez, with that hospitable speed all Mexi- 
can rancheros display, had already covered the table with pulque, mezcal, Cata- 
lonian refino, orangeade, and an infusion of tamarinds. The young people, thirsty 
from their long ride, and not wishing to grieve the worthy persons who received 
them so kindly, did honour to the refreshments thus profusely offered them. 
Don Ruiz, while teasing his sister about the strange fancy for spendiag the 
night at the rancho, though he felt convinced that she must have a very serious 
reason for it, conversed gaily according to his fashion, and displayed a dazzling 
wit which is easier in Mexico then e sewhere ; for, owing to the natural intelli- 
gence of the people, no matter their rank, they are certain to understand. 
When day began to fall, the young gentleman took leave of the rancheros, 
mounted his horse, and started for the hacienda. 

In Mexico, as in all intertropical countries, evening is the pleasantest part of 
the day : at that time the inhabitants are all in the open air. At night they sit > 
in front of the rancho doors, conversing, singing, or dancing ; two or three in 
the morning arrives before they dream of going to bed. But on this day, con- 
trary to her habit when she paid her nurse a visit. Dona Marianna seemed 
fatigued ; at times she had difficulty in checking a yawn, and her desire for rest 
was so evident that the nurse was first to invite her to retire. The young lady 
required no pressing, and after bidding the old folks good night entered the 
rancho and the room prepared for her. So soon as Marianna left the room, 
the old couple also retired to rest. As for Marianno, after making his usual 
tour of inspection round the rancho, he hung up a hammock under the portico, 
as he preferred sleeping in the open air to being shut up within the walls, which 


The Tigrero. 


87 


the sun’s heat had rendered stifling. An hour later all the inhabitants of the 
rancho were plunged into the deepest sleep. 

Suddenly the tigrero felt a hand gently laid on his shoulder ; he opened his 
eyes, and by the ligtit of the stars, which were as brilliant as day, recognised 
Dona Marianna. The young man, who had thrown himself fully dressed upon 
the hammock, started up, and looked at his foster-sister anxiously. 

“ What is the matter with you, nina ? ” he asked, in evident alarm. 

“ Silence, Marianne 1 ” she answered in a low voice, and laying her finger on 
her lips ; all is quiet, at least I suppose so, but I wish to speak with you.” 

“ Go on, tocaya,” he replied, as he leaped from the hammock and folded it up. 

“ Yes, but I am sorry at having waked you; you were sleeping so soundly, 
that I looked at you for nearly a quarter of an hour ere I dared to disturb your 
rest ; for sleep is such a blessed thing.” 

“ Nonsense,” he answered, with a laugh ; “ you were wrong, nina ; we wood- 
rangers sleep so quickly that an hour is sufficient to rest us, and if I am not 
mistaken I have been lying down for more than two. Hence speak, nina; I 
am attentive, and shall not miss a word of what you say to me.” 

The young lady reflected for a moment. 

“ You love me, I think, Marianno ? ” she at length said, with a certain hesi- 
tation in her voice. 

“ Like a sister, nina,” he said, warmly ; “ in truth, are we not tocayo and 
tocaya ? Why ask such a question ? ” 

“ Because I want you to do me an important service.” 

“ Me, nina ? Carai 1 do not be alarmed ; I am devoted to you body and soul, 
and whatever you may ask ” 

“ Do not pledge yourself too hastily, tocayo,” she interrupted him, with a 
meaning laugh. 

” A man cannot do that when he firmly intends to keep his promise.” 

“ That is true ; still there are things from which a man at times recoils.” 

“ There may be such, nina, but I do not know them ; however explain your 
wishes to me frankly.” 

“ I think, Marianno, that you are on friendly terms with the hunter called 
Stronghand ? ” 

“ Very intimate, nina ; but why do you ask the question ? ” 

. ” Is he an honest man ?” 

The t’grero looked at her. 

“ What do you mean by that ? ” he asked her. 

“ Why,” she said, with considerable embarrassment, “ I mean a man of heart 
-—a man, in short, whose word may be taken.” 

Marianno became serious. 

“ Senorita,” he said, “ Stronghand saved my life under circumstances when 
my only hope was in Heaven. I have seen this man perform deeds of incred- 
ible courage and audacity, for the sole object of serving people who frequently 
did not feel the slightest gratitude to him. To me he is more than a friend- 
more than a brother ; whatever he bade me I would do, even if I had to lay 
down the life he saved, and which belongs to him. Such, nina, is my opinion 
about the hunter called Stronghand.” 

The young lady gave a glance of pleasure. 

“ You are deeply attached to him ? ” she murmured. 

“ As I told you, he is more to me than a brother.” 

And you often see him ? ” 

“ When I want him, or he wants m''.” 

** Does he live in the neighbourhood, then P ” 


88 


Stronghand, 


“ A short time back he stayed several days at the rancho.** 

“ And will he return ? ” 

“Who knows?” 

“ What did he during his stay here ?” 

“ I am not aware ; I believe that he hunted, though I did not see a single head 
of game he had killed whilst he was here.” 

“ Ah ! ” she said, pensively. 

There was a silence. Marianno looked at her, somewhat surprised that she 
should have waked him for the sake of asking him such unimportant questions. 

“ Well,” she continued, presently ; “ if you wanted to see Stronghand, do you 
know where to find him ? ” 

“ I think so.” 

“ You are not certain ? ” 

“ Forgive me, nina, I am certain ; we have a spot where we are safe to meet." 
“ But he might not be there.” 

“ That might happen.” 

“ What would you do in that case ?” 

“ Go and seek him in another place, where I should be sure of finding him," 

“ Ah ! and where is that ? ” 

“ At the village he inhabits.” 

“ What village is that ? I know of none in the vicinity," 

“ Pardon me, nina ; there is one.” 

“ A long way from here, I presume ?” 

“ Only a few leagues.” 

“ And what is this pueblo ?” 

“ A village of the Papazos.” 

“What?” 

“ Yes, I have forgotten to tell you that. Although he is a white man, Strong* 
hand has, for reasons I am ignorant of, joined the Indians, and been adopted by 
one of their most powerful tribes.” 

“ That is singular,” the young lady murmured. 

“ Is it not ? ” the tigrero replied, understanding less than ever the object of th* 
conversation. 

The maiden shook her head coquettishly, and seemed to form a sudden reso* 
lution. 

“ Marianno,” she said, “ I asked you to do me a favour," 

“ Yes, nina, and I answered that I was ready to do it," 

“ That is true ; you are still of the same mind ? " 

“ Why should I have altered it ? '* 

“ This is what I want of you.” 

“ Speak.” 

“ I wish to see Stronghand.” 

“ Very good ; when ? ” 

“At once.” 

“ What P ” he asked, in amazement, 

“ Do you refuse ? ” 

“ I do not say that, but ** 

“ There is a but, then ? ” 

“There always is one.” 

“ l.et me hear yours.” 

“ It is long past midnight," 

“ What matter is that ?” 

“ Not much, I allow.” 


The Tigrero. 


89 


“Well, what next ? ” 

“ It is a long journey.” 

** Our horses are good.” 

“ We risk not finding the hunter at our usual meeting.place.* 

“ We will push on to his village.” 

The tigrero looked at her attentively. 

“ You have a great need to see Stronghand in that case?” he asked» 

“ Most extreme.” 

” It is more serious than you suppose, senorita.” 

“ Why so ? ” 

“ Hang it ! it is not so easy to enter an Indian village,’’ 

“ But you do so.” 

“ That is true ; but I am alone, and well known.” 

“ Well, I will go on after you ; that is all.” 

“ Are you aware that the Indians have revolted ? ” 

“ That does not concern you, as you are a friend of theirs.” 

Marianne shook his head. 

“ You ask a very difficult thing again, tocaya,” he said, “ in which you run a 
great risk.” 

“ Yes, if I fail ; but I shall succeed.” 

“ It would be better to give up this excursion.” 

“Confess, then, at once,” she said, impatiently, “that you do not wish to keep 
the promise you made me.” 

“ You are unjust to me ; I am only trying to dissuade you from an enterprise 
which you will repent when it is too late.” 

“ That is my business, I repeat, Marianno,” she continued, with a marked 
stress in her words ; “ it is not to gratify a caprice that I wish to see the hunter, 
i have reasons of the utmost importance tor wishing to speak with him ; and, to 
tell you all, he urged me to summon him under certain circumstances, and told 
me I need only apply to you in order to find him. Are you satisfied now? 
Will you adhere to your doubts, and still refuse to accompany me ? ” 

The young man had listened to Dona Marianna with earnest attention. 
When she had ended, he replied, “ I no longer hesitate, nina ; as things are so, 
I am bound to obey you. Still, I beg you not to make me responsible for any 
events that may happen.” 

“ Whatever may occur, my kind Marianno, be assured that I shall be grate- 
ful to you for the immense service you have rendered me.” 

“ And you wish to start at once ?” 

“ How far have we to ride ? ” 

“ Some ten or twelve leagues.” 

“ Oh, that is nothing.” 

“ Not on a re^lar road ; but I warn you that we shall be compelled to follow 
hardly visible wild beast tracks.” 

“ The night is clear ; we shall have sufficient light to guide us, so let us 
Start.” 

“ If you wish it,” the young man answered. 

A few minutes later they left the rancho at a gallop. It was two in the morn- 
ing ; and the moon, which was at its full, lit up the landscape as in bright day. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE EXCURSION. 

As we have already said, Dona Marianna, although still so young, was gifted 
with an ardent soul and an energetic character, which the unusual dangers of a 
border life had, so to soeak, unconsciously ripened. In life these select organi- 
isations do not know themselves ; events alone, by exciting their living strength, 
reveal to them what they are capable of at a given moment, by urging them 
bravely to endure the attack of malignant fortune, and to contend resolutely 
with their adversary. When the marquis, forced by the necessities of his un- 
happy condition, had a frank explanation with his children, and confessed to 
them into what difficulties he was suddenly thrown. Dona Marianna had 
listened to him with the most sustained attention. Then, by degrees, a species 
of revolution took place in her. Stronghand’s words reverted to her mind, and 
she had a vague idea that he could avert the danger that was suspended over 
her father’s head. 

On recapitulating all that had occurred to her since her departure from 
Rosario — the help the hunter had rendered her on various occasions with un- 
exampled devotion — the conversation she had held with him a few days pre- 
viously, and the promise she had made him — it appeared evident to her that 
Stronghand, better informed than perhaps the marquis himself was about the 
machinations of his enemies, held in his hands the means of saving the Moguer 
family, and parrying the blows which were about to be dealt them in the dark. 

Then, full of hope, and confiding in the promises of this man, who had never 
made his appearance except to prove his devotion to her, her resolution was 
spontaneously formed, and without informing any one of the project she had 
conceived, for fear lest an effort might be made to dissuade her, she went to her 
nurse’s rancho, in order to obtain an interview with the hunter by the agency of 
her foster-brother. 

Marianno did not think, and consequently did not understand what he sup- 
posed was a girl’s fancy. Accustomed since childhood to yield to all the wishes 
of his foster-sister, and obey her as a slave, he had on this occasion done what 
she desired without trying to account for such an unusual excursion, so happy 
did he feel at obliging her. At the same time he felt a lively pleasure at accom- 
panying her, and thus passing a few hours in her company. We must not mis- 
take the feelings that animated the tigrero for Dona Marianna. He loved his 
foster-sister with his whole soul, and would have gladly died for her ; but this 
feeling, lively as it was, had nothing personal or interested about it ; it was 
merely friendship, but a friendship. Hence the tigrero, comprehending the 
responsibility weighing on him, rode on, as is commonly said, with his beard on 
his shoulder, carefully examining the bushes, listening to the desert sounds, 
and ready, on the slightest alarm, bravely to defend the girl who had placed 
herself under his guard. Suddenly Marianno pointed out to her a gentle 
eminence forming a bend of the river, on the top of which the fugitive gleams 
of an exp. ring fire could be seen at intervals. 


The Excursion. 


9t 


“ That is where we are going,” he said. 

“ Then we have only a few minutes’ ride, and it is useless to hurry our 
horses.” 

“ You are mistaken, nina. Not only is the track we are following very wind- 
ing, and one which will detain us, but this hill is at least two leagues distant.” 

“ Can we not cut across country, and thus shorten the distance ? ” 

“ Heaven forbid, nina 1 We should then get into trembling prairies.” 

** I trust to you in that case, Marianno.” 

“ Permit me to remark, my dear tocaya, that I did not say certainly that wo 
should find Stronghand at this bivouac.” 

“ What did you tell me, then ? ” 

“ Simply that we might hope to meet him here, because it is the spot where 
he generally encamps when hunting in these parts.” 

“ Still, as we can perceive the flame of that watch-fire ” 

We have yet to learn whether this fire has been kindled by Stronghand or 
some other hunter.” 

“Then probably we shall not find the hunter at the en-ampment? ” 

“ I do not say that either, nina,” Marianno answered, with a laugh. 

“ But what do you mean ? ” the young lady said. 

“ Do not be angry, tocaya ; I may be mistaken. If Stronghand is not here, 
perhaps we may find a hunter who will tell us where he is,” 

“ Why not an Indian ?” 

“ This fire is not an Indian fire.” 

** That is not exactly what you said to me. Gk) on, however.” 

“ The Indians, when they camp on the white man’s border, never light a fire 
for fear of revealing their presence ; or if compelled to light one in order to 
cook their food, they are most careful to diminish the flame, in the first place 
by digging a deep hole in the ground.” 

“ But, my friend, that fire is scarce visible.” 

“ That is true ; but still it is sufficiently so for us to have perceived it a long 
distance off, at a spot which, under present circumstances, would entail the 
surprise and consequent death of the imprudent men who lit it if they were 
Indians instead of hunters.” 

“ Excellently reasoned, companero, and like a man accustomed to a desert 
life,” a rough though good-humoured voice suddenly said a few yards from 
them. 

Marianno did not lose his head under these critical circumstances, but with 
a movement swift as thought raised his rifle and covered a man who was 
standing by the side of a thicket. 

“Hold, compadrel ” the stranger continued, not at all disturbed by the 
tigrero’s hostile demonstration ; “ pay attention to what you are about, A 
thousand fiends ! do you know that you run the risk of killing a friend ? ” 

“ I fancy 1 recognise that voice,” said Marianno ; “ you are Whistler.” 

“ All right, you remember now,” the Canadian said, with a laugh. 

“ Are you quite sure of this man ? ” asked Marianna, in a low, quick voice. 

“ He is a Canadian hunter or trapper. He has all the defects of the race, 
but at the same time all its qualities.” 

“ I will believe you, for his countrymen are generally regarded as honest men. 
Ask him what he was doing on the skirt o£ the track.” 

Marianno obeyed. 

“ I was attending to my business,” Whistler replied, with a grin ; ‘‘ and pray 
what may you be doing, so poorly accompanied at this hour of the night, when 
the Indians have taken the field F ” 


Stronghand, 




“ I am travelling, as you see.” 

“ Yes ; but every journey has an object, I suppose.” 

. « It has.” 

Well, I do not see what you and yours can achieve by continuing in that 
direction.” 

“ Still, we are going to do so till we have found the man we are in search 
of.” 

“ I will not ask you your destinations, although I may perhaps have a right 
to do so. Still, I fancy you would act more wisely in turning back than in 
obstinately going on.” 

“ I am not able to do so.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

” Because I have not the command of the expedition, and I cannot undertake 
such a responsibility.” 

“ Ah, who is the chief, then ? I only see two persons.” 

” You seern to forget, senor,”Dona Marianna said, joining in the conversation 
for the first time, “ that one of these two persons is a female.” 

“ Of course she must command,” the trapper answered, with a courteous 
bow ; “ pray excuse me, madam.” 

“ I the more willingly do so because I hope to obtain from you important 
imformation about the object of the journey we have undertaken, perhapa some- 
what too carelessly, in these desolate regions.” 

“ I shall be too happy to be agreeable to you, my lady, if it be in my power.” 

“ Forgive me, sir,” she continued ; “ I am in search of a hunter with whom 
grave reasons force me to desire an immediate interview.” 

” Do you know him personally, madam ? ” 

“ Yes, and am under great obligations to him. He is called Stronghand.” 

“ You wish to have an immediate interview with Stronghand ? ” the trapper 
asked. 

“Yes, I repeat, senor, for reasons of the highest importance.” 

“ In that case you are Dona Marianna de Moguer.” 

“ What 1 ” she exclaimed, in surprise, “ you know my name ? ” 

“I am ari intimate friend of Stronghand. Without entering into any details 
that might justly offend you, my friend told me that you might perchance come 
and ask for him at ovir camp-fire.” 

“ He knew it, then,” she murmured ; “ but how did he learn it ? ” 

He doubtless hoped it would be so, madam,” he answered. 

“ Good heavens ! ” she continued, “ what does this mean ? ” 

I am at your orders, madam, and believe me that you will receive a proper 
reception, even though my friend does not happen to be there at the moment ” 

‘ Good heavens 1 ” she murmured, clasping her hands in grief. 

“Warned through me, naadam, Stronghand will be back by daybreak ” 
shoi^me^”^"’ Heaven requite you for the good-will and courtesy you 

Whistler bowed respectfully to the young lady, took his rifle under his arm. 
ani soon disappeared in the forest. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE hunter’s camp. 

ll wns no great distance to the bivouac, and the travellers reached it half an 
hour after Whistler. Still, though this period was so short, the worthy Cana- 
dian had profited by it to erect for the young lady, who thanked him by a smile, 
a jacal of branches, under which she found a shelter as comfortable as desert 
life permits. 

Orders had probably been given beforehand by Whistler, for the sentinels 
allowed the two travellers to pass unquestioned through a breaeh in the en- 
trenchments, which was immediately closed after them again. 

“You are welcome among us, senora,” said the Canadian with a respectful 
bow; “ in this jacal, which no one will enter save yourself.” 

“ I thank you, senor, but will you keep your promise?” 

“ Senorita, two horsemen have already set out to fetch Stronghand, but I re- 
peat that he cannot be here for some hours; now, if you will accept the humble 
refreshment prepared for you ” 

“ I only require rest, senor ; still, I am not the less obliged to you.” 

“ You are mistress here, madam.” 

The young lady smiled, pressed her foster-brother’s hand, and entered the 
jacal. So soon as Dona Marianna had let fall after her the blanket which 
formed the doorway, the tigrero quietly removed his zarape from his shoulders 
and laid it on the ground. 

“ What is that for, comrade ? ” Whistler asked. 

“ You see, compadre, I am making my bed. Two sentries are better than 
one ; besides, you know me, do you not ? Although I place the utmost confi- 
dence in you, I will not surrender the guardianship of my tocaya to another man.” 

“ As you please,” the trapper said, with a laugh. 

And he left him at liberty to make his arrangements as he pleased. The 
tigrero, though he knew most of the hunters, or perhaps because he knew 
them, did not wish to leave his foster-sister unprotected among these reckless 
men, who, accustomed to the utter licence of a desert life, might, under the in- 
fluence of strong liquors, forget the sacred duties of hospitality and insult Dona 
Marianna. 

Whistler went off with a laugh, and lay down by the side of his comrades. 
As we have already said, the night was far advanced when Dona Marianna and 
her travelling companion reached the camp of the hunters ; a few hours at the 
most separated them from sunrise ; and the young lady, who at first resolved to 
spend these hours awake, overcome by fatigue, had yielded to sleep, and enjoyed 
a calm and refreshing rest. 

The dawn was just breaking, and striping the horizon with wide vermilion 
bands. As she arose, the sharp and rather cold morning breeze rustled softly 
through the branches ; the flowers that enamelled theprairie raised themselves, and 
expanded the corollas to receive the first sunbeams ; the numberless streams, 
whose silvery waters made their way through the tall grass, murmured over 


94 


Stronghand. 


the white and grey pebbles as they bore their tribute to the Rio Bravo def 
Norte. 

The maiden, refreshed by the rest she had enjoyed, felt herself new-born as 
she breathed the first exhalations of the flowers and the sharp odour which is 
found in the desert alone. Without venturing to quit the jacal, in front of 
which the tigrero was lying, she surveyed the surrounding landscape. Suddenly 
the girl uttered an exclamation of delight, for she noticed a band of horsemen 
fording the stream, and apparently coming in the direction of the hill. At the 
cry his foster-sister uttered the tigrero bounded to his feet and stood by her 
side, rifle in hand, ready to defend her if necessary. 

“ Good morning, tocayo,” she said to him. 

“ Heaven keep you, nina,” he replied, with a shade of anxiety. “ Have you 
slept well ? ” 

“ I could not have done so better, Marianno.” 

“ All right then ; but why did you utter that cry ? " 

“ I cried out, my friend, and scarce know why.” 

Ah, yes — stay ; look at those horsemen coming up at full speed.” 

“Carai ! how they gallop 1 They will be here within half an hour.” 

“ Do you think that Stronghand is among them ? ” 

I suppose so, nina.” 

In the meanwhile the camp was aroused,; the hunters were yawning, and 
turning to their daily avocations ; some led their horses to the watering-place, 
others kindled the fires ; some cut the wood requisite to keep them up, while 
two or three of the older men acted as cooks, and got breakfast ready for the 
party. The camp changed its appearance in a minute ; it lived the nervous, 
agitated life of the desert, in which each man performs his task with the feverish 
speed of persons who are aware of the value of time, and do not wish to lose it. 
The young lady, at first surprised by the cries, laughter, and unaccustomed 
movements that prevailed around her, began to grow used to it. A sharp chal- 
lenge of “ Who goes there ? ” suddenly made her raise her head. 

“ A friend ! ” a voice she at once recognised answered from without. 

Suddenly a band of horsemen entered the camp, at their head being Strong- 
hand. The young man dismounted, and after exchanging a few words with 
Whistler he went straight up to the maiden, who was standing motionless in 
the doorway of the jacal. Stronghand was not alone; several persons accom- 
panied him, among them being Thunderbolt and Dona Esperanza ; the rest were 
confidential Indian servants. 

“ Permit me, senorita,” said Stronghand, “ to present to you my mother. Dona 
Esperanza, and my father ; both love you, though they do not know you, and in- 
sisted on accompanying me.” 

The maiden, blushing with joy at this delicate attention on the part of the 
hunter, who thus placed their interview beneath the safeguard of his father and 
mother, replied with emotion — “ I am delighted, senor, with this kind inspiration 
of your heart.” 

Dona Esperanza and the sachem embraced the girl, who, at once ashamed 
and joyous at the friendship of these persons, whose exterior was at once so 
imposing and so venerable, knew not how to respond to their caresses and the 
kindness they evinced to her. In the meanwhile the hunters had raised, with 
great skill and speed, a tent, under which the four persons were at once pro- 
tected from the curious glances of the persons who surrounded them. Dona 
Marianna was greatly surprised to see that this lady, whom she was bound to 
suppose an entire stranger, was perfectly acquainted with all that related to her 
family, and knew her father’s affairs better than she did herself ; her amazement 


The Hunif^r*s Camp, 


OS 


Increased when Dona Esperanza explained in the fullest details the reasons 
that occasioned her presence in the hunter’s camp, and the precaiious position 
to which the Marquis de Moguer was reduced. 

“ I could add many more surprising things, my dear girl,” Dona Esperanza 
continued with a smile, *' but I do not wish to fatigue you at present ; sufficient 
for you to know that we really take an interest in your family, and that it will 
not be our fault if your father is not soon freed from all his cares.” 

“ Oh, how good you are, madam 1 ' the young lady exclaimed, warmly ; “ how 
can I have merited such lively interest on your part ? ” 

” That must not trouble you at all, my dear girl ; the step you have taken to-day 
to come to your father’s assistance, and the confidence you have placed in my 
son, are for us proofs of the loftiness of your feelings and the purity of your 
heart.” 

The conversation went on thus between the two ladies on a footing of frank 
friendliness, until the moment when Stronghand came to interrupt it by stating 
that breakfast was ready, and that they were only waiting for them to sit down. 
The tigrero and the Canadian had both been invited to share the meal, but they 
declined the invitation under the pretext that they did not like to eat with 
persons so high above them in rank, but in reality because the worthy wood- 
rangers preferred breakfasting without ceremony. Stronghand did not press 
them, and allowed them to do as they pleased. 

The young lady seated herself between Thunderbolt and Dona Esperanza, 
Stronghand sat down opposite to her, and two men-servants v/aited. In spite 
of the agreeable surprise which the impromptu comfort of this repast, prepared 
for her alone, caused her, the young lady did not at all display her surprise, 
but she ate heartily and gaily, thus thanking her hosts for the delicate attentions 
they showed her. When the dainties were placed on the table and the meal was 
drawing to a close, Stronghand bowed to Dona Marianna. 

“ Senorita,” he said, with a smile, “ before we begin a serious conversation, 
which might, at this moment, appear to you untimely, be kind enough to permit 
my mother to tell us|a charming Indiar^legend. ’ 

*Dona Marianna was at first surprised by this proposition, made, without any 
apparent motive, at the close of a lively conversation ; but imagining that the 
hunter’s remarks concealed a serious purpose, and that the legend, under its 
frivolous aspect, would entail valuable results for her, she answered with her 
sweetest smile — “ I shall listen with the greatest pleasure to the narrative the 
senora is about to tell us, because my nurse, who is of Indian origin, was wont 
to lull me to sleep with these legends, which have left a deep and most agree* 
able impression on my mind.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


THE LEGEND. 

Dona Esperanza exchanged a look with the sachem, and after reflecting a 
moment, as if recalling her ideas, she said to Dona Marianna, in her gentle, 
sympathising voice — “ My dear girl, before beginning my narrative, I must 
inform you that I belong to the Aztec race, and am descended in a direct line 
from the kings of that people. Hence the story you are about to hear, though 
simple in its form, is completely exact, and has dwelt among us intact for 
generations. I trust,” she added, with a stress, “ that it will interest you.” 

Then turning to one of the criados who stood motionless behind the guests, 
she said — “ The quipos.” 

The criado went out, and almost immediately returned with a bag of perfumed 
tapir skin, which he handed his mistress with a bow. The latter opened it, and 
drew out several cords plaited of different coloured threads, divided at regUitL* 
distances by knots mingled with shells and beads. These cords are called quipos, 
and are employed by the Indians to keep up the memory of events that have 
occurred during a long course of years, and thus represent books. Still, it 
requires a special study to understand these quipos, and few people are capable 
of deciphering them, the more so as the Indians, who are very jealous about 
keeping their historical secrets, only permit a small number of adepts to learn 
the explanation,, which renders any knowledge of Indian history almost im- 
possible for white men. Dona Esperanza, after attentively examining the quipos, 
selected one, replaced the others in the bag, and letting the knots of the rope 
glide through her fingers as a monk does his beads when telling his rosary, she 
began her narrative. 

For fear of injuring this story, whose truth cannot be doubted, and which we 
ourselves heard told in an atepetl of the Papazos, we will leave it with all its 
native rudeness, without attempting to adorn it with flowers of European 
metaphors, which, in our opinion, would deprive it of its peculiar character* 
Doaa Esperanza spoke as follows ; — 

“ At a certain period of the year,” she said, while beginning to feel the 
quipos, which served her, as it were, as a book, “ long before the appearance ot 
White men on the red territory, a numerous band of Chichimeques and Toi- 
tequez, who originally dwelt at the lakes, becoming dissatisfied, resolved ta 
emigrate to the south-west in pursuit of the buffaloes, and carried out their 
resolve. 

“ At Salt Lake they divided, and those who remained continued to bear their 
primitive name, while the others, for an unknown motive, assumed that oi 
Comanches. These Comanches, more enterprising than their brothers, con- 
tinued their journey till they reached the banks of the Rio Gila, where they en- 
camped and divided again. One band, which resolved not to go further, was 
christened by the others, who determined to press on, the ‘ Great Ears ’ ; but 
the whites who first discovered them called them ‘ Opatas.’ The remainder of 
the band continued to march in the same direction, and found the Rio Bravo 


The Legend. 


57 


del Norte at the mouth of the Rio Puerco. They had only two principal chiefs 
left, and gave themselves the name of Neu-ta-che, which means, ‘ those who 
reach the river’s mouth.’ One of the chiefs had an only son, and the other a 
lovely daughter, and the young people loved each other. But this raised the 
anger of the father of the unhappy girl to such a height that he made his band 
arm and prepare to fight. But the father and the young man crossed the Rio 
Gila, and buried themselves with their band in the territory afterwards called 
by the white men Senora or Sonora, where they settled, and continued to reside 
peacefully until the period when the whites, ever in search of new lands, arrived 
there in their turn, and after many cruel wars succeeded in gaining possession 
of the country. 

“ The Comanches had founded several towns in Sonora, in accordance 
with their constant habit, in the neighbourhood of the gold and silver mines 
they discovered, and began to work. One of their towns, perhaps the richest 
and most populous, had for its chief a warrior justly renowned for his wisdom 
in council and valour in the combat. ' This chief was called Quetzalmalin — that 
is to say, the ‘ Twisted Feather.’ His nobility was great, and very ancient ; he 
justly declared that he was descended in a direct line from Acamapichtzin, 
first king of Mexico, whose hieroglyphic he retained on the totem of his tribe, 
through that veneration which our fathers displayed for their ancestors. This 
hieroglyphic, which his descendants have preciously retained, is composed of a 
hand grasping a number of reeds, which is the literal translation of the name of 
the noble chief of the race. Twisted Feather had a daughter, eighteen summers 
old, lovely and graceful ; her name was Ova, and she ran over the prairie grass 
without bending it; gentle, pensive, and timid as the virgin of the first loves, 
her black eyes had not yet been fixed on one of the warriors of the tribe, who 
all sought to please her. 

“ Ova wore a tunic of water-green colour, fastened round her waist by a 
wampum-belt, with a large golden buckle. When she danced before her 
father, the old man’s forehead became unwrinkled, and a sunbeam passed into 
his eyes. Her father had often told her that it was time for her to marry, but 
Ova shook her head with a smile ; she was happy, and the little bird that 
speaks to the heart of maidens had not yei sung to her the gentle strains of love. 

“ Still a moment arrived when Ova lost all her careless gaiety. The young 
girl, so laughing and so wild, became suddenly pensive and dreamy — she loved. 

“ Ova went to find her father. The chief at this moment was presiding over 
the great council of the nation in the great medicine calli. The maiden 
advanced, and knelt respectfully before her father. 

“ ‘ What is it, my daughter?’ the chief said, as he passed his hand gently 
through her long hair, which was fine as aloe threads, 

“ ‘ My father,’ she replied, looking down modestly, ‘ I love, and am beloved.’ 

“ ‘ My daughter, what is the name of the chief who is so happy that your 
choice should have fallen on him P ’ 

“ ‘ He is not a chief, my father; he is, perchance, one of the most obscure 
warriors of the tribe, although he is one of the bravest. He works in the gold 
mine that belongs to you.’ 

“ The chief frowned, and a flash of anger sparkled in his glance. 

“ ‘ My father,’ the maiden continued, as she embraced his legs, ‘ if I did not 
marry him I should die.’ • 

“ The chief gazed at his daughter for a moment, and saw her so .^d and 
resigned that pity entered his heart. He, too, loved his daughter — his only 
child ; for the Master of Life had called away the others to the happy hunting- 
grounds. The aged man did not wish his daughter to die. 

E 


98 


Stronghand, 


“ ‘ You shall marry the man you love,’ he said to her. 

“ ‘ Do you promise it to me on the sacred totem of the nation, father * ’ 

“ ‘ On the sacred totem of the nation I promise it. Speak, the.’efore, wichoct 
fear ; what is the name of the man you love ? ’ 

“ ‘ He is called the Clouded Snake, father.’ 

“ The old man sighed. 

‘ He is very poor,’ he muttered. 

‘ I am rich enough for both.’ 

“ ‘ Be it so. You shall marry him, my daughter.* 

" Ova rose, sparkling with joy and happiness, bowed to the assembly, and left 
the medicine lodge. 

“ Clouded Snake was poor, it is true — even very poor, since he was 
constrained to work in the gold mine ; but he was young, he was brave, and 
was considered the handsomest of all the warriors of his age. 

“ Tall, robust, and muscular. Clouded Snake formed as complete a contrast 
with Ova, who was pale and frail, as a noble buffalo does with a graceful ante- 
lope. Perhaps their love emanated from this contrast. 

“ The young man, though he was so poor, found means to give his 
betrothed perfumes of grizzly bears’ grease, necklaces of alligator’s teeth, and 
wampum girdles. 

“ The young people were happy. On the eve of the marriage Clouded Snake 
laid at Ova’s feet buckles of gold and two bracelets of shells, mingled with 
beads of pure gold. 

“ Ova accepted these presents with a smile, and said to her betrothed, as she 
left him — 

“ ‘ Farewell ; we part to-day to see each other to-morrow, and to-morrow we 
shall be united for ever.’ 

“ On the next day Clouded Snake did not come. Ova waited for several 
months ; Clouded Snake did not reappear. 

“ In vain, by the chief’s orders, was the young man sought for throughout the 
country ; no one had seen him, no one had heard speak of him. 

“ Clouded Snake no longer existed, except in the heart of Ova. 

“ She wept for him, and people tried to make her believe that he had gone to 
fight the white men ; but Ova shook her head, and wiped away her tears. 

“ Forty times did the snow cover the summit of the mountains, and yet it 
had been impossible to clear up the mystery of Clouded Snake’s disappear- 
ance. 

“ One day some labourers at work in the gold mine which had belonged to 
Ova’s father, and was now her property, while going far down an old gallery 
which had been abandoned for a long time^ exhumed a corpse as miraculously 
preserved as the mummies of the teocallis are in their bandages. 

“ The warriors flocked up to see this strange corpse, clothed in a dress 
belonging to another age, and no one recognised it. 

“ Ova, who was then old, and who, to please her father, had married the great 
chief of his nation when her last hope expired, went with her husband to the 
spot where the corpse was exposed to the sight of visitors. 

“ Suddenly she started, and tears darted from her eyes ; she had recognised 
Clouded Snake, as handsome as on the day when she left him with the hope of 
a speedy reunion. She, on the other hand, aged and bowed down more by 
grief than years, wa9 weak and tottering. 

“ Ova wished that the corpse of the man whom she had been on the point 
of marrying, and whom the evil spirit had torn from her, should be restored to 
the mine from which it had been removed after forty years. The mine, by the . 


The Legend, 


99 


orders of the chief’s wife, although extremely rich, was abandoned and shut up, 

*‘ Ova ordered a hieroglyphic to be carved on the stone that covers the body 
of her betrothed, which may be thus translated : — ‘ This sepulchre is without a 
body ; this body is without a sepulchre ; but by itself it is a sepulchre and a 
body.* 

“ Such,” Dona Esperanza added, as she finished the legend and laid down the 
quipos, “ is the story of the lovely Ova, daughter of the great chief Twisted 
Feather, and of Clouded Snake the miner, just as it occurred, and just as Ova 
herself ordered it to be preserved by a special quipos for future ages.” 

Dona Esperanza stopped, and there was a moment’s silence. 

“ Well, senorita,” the sachem asked, “ has the legend interested you P” 

“ Through its simplicity it is most touching, senor,” the young lady answered. 
** Still, there is something vague and unsettled about the whole story, which 
impairs its effect.” 

Thunderbolt smiled gently. 

“You find, do you not, that we are not told the precise spot where the 
events of the narrative occurred, that Sonora is very large, aiid that the town 
in which Twisted Feather commanded is not sufficiently indicated ?” 

“ Pardon me, senor,” the young lady remarked, with a blush, “ such 
geographical notions, thou h doubtless very useful in settling the spot where 
events have occurred, interest me very slightly. What I find incomplete is the 
story itself ; the rest does not concern me.” 

“ More so than you suppose, perhaps, senorita,” the sachem remarked ; “ but 
pray be good enough to state your objections more fully.” 

“ Excuse me, senor, but I have not yet recovered from the surprise which the 
events that have occurred during the last few hours have occasioned me, and ! 
explain myself badly, in spite of my efforts.” 

“ What do you mean, senorita, and to what events are you referring P ” 

“ To those which are taking place at this very moment. Having started 
from home to ask an interview of a wood-ranger, whom I naturally supposed 
encamped in the open air, and shared the life of privations of his fellows, I 
meet, on the contrary, persons who overwhelm me with attentions, and, under 
an Indian appearance, conceal all the refinements of the most advanced 
civilisation.” 

“ You are going too far, my dear child,” Dona Esperanza replied, as she 
tenderly embraced her ; “ what you have seen here ought not to surprise you. 
My husband is one of the principal chiefs of the great Confederation of the 
Papazos ; but he and I, in other times, lived the life of white men. When we 
withdrew to the desert, we took with us our civilised habits, and that is the 
entire mystery. As for the step you have taken, it has nothing that is not 
most honourable to you.” 

“ I thank you for these kind remarks, and the interpretation you are pleased 
to give to my folly.” 

“ Do not regret it, senorita,” said Thunderbolt ; “ perhaps it has helped your 
fat’.er’s affairs more than you suppose.” 

“ As for the story of Ova,” Dona Esperanza continued, with a gentle smile, 
“ this is how it ended : The poor woman died of despair a few days after the 
discovery of the man she ought to have married, and whom she had held in 
such tender memory for so long a time. At her last hour she expressed a 
desiie to be united in death to the man from whom she had been separated in 
life. This last wish was carried out. The two betrothed repose side by side in 
the mine, which was at once closed again, and no one has dreamed of opening 
it up to the present day.“ — 


lOO 


Stronghand, 


“ I thank you, senora, for completing your narrative. Still,” Marianna said, 
with a sigh, “ this gold mine must, in my opinion, be very poor, since the 
Spaniards, when they seized the country, did not attempt to work it.” 

“ Not at all, my dear child ; on the contrary, it is excessively rich. But Ova’s 
secret has been so well kept that the Spaniards remained in ignorance of its 
existence.” 

The two ladies were by this time alone, as the sachem and his son had left 
the tent. 

“ It is strange,” the maiden murmured, answering her own thoughts rather 
than Dona Esperanza’s remark. 

The earnestness with which the lady insisted on referring to the legend 
astounded and interested her. A secret foreboding warned her that the story 
had a hidden object, whose importance still escaped her, though she was burn- 
ing to discover it. Dona Esperanza attentively followed in her face the various 
feelings that agitated her, and were reflected in her expressive face as in a 
mirror. She continued — ‘‘This is why the mine was not discovered when the 
Spaniards seized the town where it was situated. It had been stopped up for 
a very long time. The old inhabitants were killed or expelled by the con- 
querors ; and those who escaped were careful not to reveal this secret to their 
oppressors. The latter destroyed the town, and built an immense hacienda 
over its mines.” 

“ But — pardon me for questioning you thus, senora — how have all these facts 
come to your knowledge ? ” 

“ For a very simple reason, my dear child. Ova was my ancestress, and the 
knowledge of this mine is consequently a family secret for us. I am, perhaps, 
the only person in the world, except my husband, who at the present day knows 
its exact position.” 

“ Yes, I understand you,” the young lady said, becoming very pensive. 

“ Still, you are trying to discover, are you not, my dear child,” the old lady 
continued, kindly interrogating her, “ why, instead of letting you speak of the 
important matters that brought you here, my son urged you to ask this story of 
me ; and why, without pity for your filial sorrow, I consented to do so ; and 
why, now that it is ended, I am anxious for you to learn the minutest details ? ” 

The girl hid her face in the old lady’s bosom, and burst into tears. 

“Yes,” she said, “you have understood me, madam, and priy pardon 
me.” 

“ Pardon you for what, my dear child ? for loving your father ? On the 
contrary, you are quite right. But yours is no common nature, my child ; 
though we have only been acquainted for a few hours, you have sufficiently 
appreciated my character, I think, to recognise the interest I take in you.” 

“ Yes, yes, I believe you, madam ; I must believe you.” 

“ Well, console yourself, my dear girl ; do not weep thus, or I shall be forced 
to follow your example ; and I have still some details to add to this intermin- 
able story.” 

The maiden smiled through her tears. “ Oh, you are so kind, madam,” she 
answered. 

“ No, I love you, that is all, and,” she added, with a sigh, “ I have done so 
for a long time.” 

Dona Marianna gazed at her with amazement. 

“Yes, that surprises you,” she continued, “and I can well understand it. 
But enough of this subject for the present, my darling, and let us return to what 
1 wanted to say to you.” 

“ Oh, I am listening to you, madam,” 


Kidd Reappears. 


lOI 


** I win now tell you where Ova’s town stood, and its name. It was called Cibola.'* 

“ Cibola ! ” the girl exclaimed. 

“Yes, dear child, the very spot where the Hacienda del Toro was after- 
wards built by your ancestor, the Marquis de Moguer, Now do you understai*d 
me ? ” 

Without replying, Dona Marianna threw herself into the old lady’s annS| who 
pressed her tenderly to her bosom. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

KIDD REAPPEARS. 

Kidd had left the atepetl of the Papazos with rage in his heart, and revolved in 
his mind the most terrible schemes of vengeance. Not that the bandit had in 
his gangrened heart any sensitive chord which noble sentiment could cause to 
vibrate ; to him it was a matter of the slightest importance that Se had been 
publicly branded and expelled like the lowest scoundrel ; humiliation glided over 
him without affecting him, and what most enraged him was to see the fortune 
dried up which Don Marcos de Niza had momentarily flashed before his greedy 
eyes, and which he hoped, by dissimulation and treachery, to invest in his 
capacious pocket in the shape of gold ounces. 

He very sadly and despairingly proceeded along the road to the Real de 
Minas, not knowing yet whether he should enter the pueblo or push further 
on and seek fortune elsewhere, when his attention was attracted to the 
left hand of the road he was following by an unusual and continuous undulation 
of the tall grass. 

He waited a quarter of an hour ; then the grass parted, and the bandit 
perceived three horsemen coming towards him, entirely dressed in black. With 
that peculiar scent scoundrels have for detecting policemen, Kidd did not 
deceive himself ; he at once recognised the three persons as belonging to the 
noble corporation of Alguazils. A fourth, also dressed in black, in whose 
ugly features an expression of bestial craft and wickedness seemed to be 
reflected, was evidently the leader of the party — an Alguazil mayor, a race of 
rapacious vultures, without heart or entrails ; a manso Indian, dressed in torn 
trousers, and with bare head, arms, and legs, was running in front of the others, 
and evidently acting as guide. 

“ Hold, Jose 1 ” the most important of the men shouted. “ Hold, Jose 1 mind 
you do not lead us astray, scoundrel ; we must arrive this night at the Real de 
Minas of Quitovar, whither important business summons us.” 

“ You would arrive there before two o’clock, excellency,” the Indian 
answered, with a crafty laugh, “ if instead of riding at a foot pace you would 
consent to give your mule the spurs.” 

“ Vulga mi dios! ” the first speaker said, angrily ; “ what will my honourable 
client, £1 Scnor Senator Don Rufino Contreras, say ? ” 


102 


Stronghand, 


** Nonsense 1 you will arrive soon enough to torture honest people.’ 

“ What do you dare to say, scoundrel ? ” the bailiff exclaimed, raising the 
chicote he held in his hand. 

“ Take care, senor ; though you call me Jose, and treat me no better nor 
worse than a brute, we are no longer in one of your civilised towns, but on the 
prairie ; here I have my foot on my native heath, and will not put up with the 
slightest insult.” 

And saying this the man flashed in the bailiff’s terrified face a long knife, 
whose blue blade had a sinister lustre. 

“You are mad, Jose — quite mad,” the other answered ; “ I never intended to 
insult you.” 

“ That will do,” the Indian said, with his eternal grin. 

And he began trotting in front with that swinging pace of which Indians 
alone possess the secret. 

The conversation had taken place sufficiently near to Kidd’s lurking-place for 
him to overhear every syllable. Suddenly he started. An idea doubtless 
crossed his mind, for after allowing the horsemen to go on, but not too far for 
him to catch them up, he left his th cket, and went after them, growling between 
his teeth — “ What the deuce relations can these birds of night have with Don 
Rufino Contreras ? Well, we shall soon see ? ” 

On turning into the track he started after the party, who were a short distance 
ahead of him. 

“ Santas tardes, Caballeros^' he said, as he joined the party of men in black, 
“ by what fortunate accident do I meet you on this desolate road ? ” 

“ Fortune is with us, caballero,” Don Parfindo answered, politely ; “ this 
accursed Indian has led us a roundabout road. 

“ That is possible,” Kidd observed ; “ and without being too curious, will you 
allow me to ask whither you are going? I am going to Quitovar.” 

“ We are going there too, in the first instance. Are we still a great distance 
from the pueblo ? ” 

“ Only a few leagues ; we shall arrive before two o’clock, if you will allow me 
to take your guide’s place.” 

“ Your proposal delights me, caballero, and I most heartily accept it.” 

“ That is agreed ; if you do not know the pueblo, I will take you to a capital 
house, where you will be excellently treated.” 

“ I thank you, caballero ; it is the first time I have been to Real de Minas. 1 
am a bailiff at Hermosillo.” 

“ A bailiff 1 ” the bandit said ; “ carai ! that is a famous profession.” 

“ At your service, were I competent for it,” Don Parfindo said. 

“ 1 do not say no,” Kidd continued, giving himself an air of importance, 
“ When a man carries on a large business, as I do, the acquaintance of a 
caballero so distinguished as you appear to be can only be most advantageous.’* 

“ You confound me, senor.'* 

“ Oh, do not thank me, for what I say 1 really think ; I was speaking about 
it only a few days back to Don Rufino Contreras.” 

“ Do you know Don Rufino ? ” the bailiff asked, with rising respect. 

“ He is one of my most intimate friends. Are you acquainted with him 
too?” 

“ He has instructed me to proceed in his name against certain debtors of 
his.” 

“ Viva Dios ! this is a strange meeting,” the adventurer exclaimed. 

“ What a worthy senor 1 ” the bailiff remarked ; “ and so honourable f • 

The two scoundrels understood each other. The acquaintance was formed, 


Kidd Reappears. 


103 


and confidence sprang up quite naturally. The conversation was continued on 
the best possible terms, Kidd adroitly led the other to make a general con- 
fession, and the latier, believing that he had to do with an intimate of Don 
Rufino, told him the secret of the negotiations he was entrusted with, without 
any visible pressure. Altogether this is what the adventurer learned : — Don 
Rufino Contreras, impelled by some motive unknown, had secretly bought up 
the claims of all the persons to whom the Marquis de Moguer was indebted. 
So soon as he held them he had taken out writs, through a third party, against 
the marquis, so as to dispossess him of the small property left him — among 
other things, the Hacienda del Toro, which he evinced a great desire to posses“^ 

The adventurer listened with the most earnest attention to the revelations the 
bailiff made with a certain degree of complacency. Kidd, who was accustomed 
to fish in troubled waters, had found an opportunity for a famous haul in these 
revelations. 

Kidd, still continuing to act as guide to his comrades, led them straight to 
a meson, where he left them at liberty to rest themselves, after warmly recom- 
mending them to the landlord. Then the bandit, placing his horse in the 
corral, and carefully wrapping himself up in his zarape, and pulling the brim of 
his hat over his eyes to escape recognition, glided through the d-arkness to the 
house of Don Marcos de Niza, which he entered. The captain, as we said, was 
accessible at all hours of the day or night. 

The bandit gave a meaning smile. 

“ My news is excellent, captain,” he said, laying a marked stress on the words. 

“ Juego de Cristi ! I hope so, for am I not commandant of the town ? ” 

“ Yes ; but I am not go.ng to talk with you about politics at present.” 

“ In that case go to the deuce, scoundrel,” the captain ‘said, shrugging his 
shoulders, angrily ; “ do you think I have nothing more important to do than 
listen to your rubbish P ” 

“ I invent nothing, exceUency. Fortune has this very day gp-anted me the 
opportunity of catching a secret it is most important for you to know, that is 
all.” 

“ Well, tell me what this mighty secret is ? ” ^ 

“ If the secret does not relate directly to you, it interests in a most eminent 
degree one of your nearest relatives.” 

“ Ah ! who is he ? ” 

“ The Marquis de Moguer.” 

The captain became serious ; he frowned with a menacing expression, which 
made Kidd tremble in spite of his well-bred effrontery. 

" Speak, and be brief,” he said to him. 

Kidd, without further pressing, related in its fullest details all that had 
occurred between himself and the bailiff on the road. 

“ Is that all ? ” asked the captain, when the other had stopped. 

“ Yes, excellency.” 

“ Good ; now be off. You will continue to watch this man, and report to me 
all he does.” 

And he dismissed the man with a wave of the hand. The adventurer bowed, 
and went away. When alone, the captain reflected for a few minutes, and then 
wrote a letter, sealed it, and summoned his orderly to send it off by express. 


CHAPTER XXX 


COMPLICATIONS. 

After leaving the captain’s study, Kidd halted in the anteroom, not hecatis* 
he had any plan formed, but through that instinct which urges villains of his 
species not to leave a good place till compelled. He had heard the captain 
summon his assistento. Isedro, the captain’s assistento, was an Opatas Indian, 
of tried bravery and fidelity. Unluckily, though he did his duty in the battle- 
field, his intellect was rather restricted, and, like all Indians, he had a propensity 
for strong liquors, v/hich had several times brought him to great grief. Kidd 
was familiar with the soldier, and knew his weakness ; hence his plan was 
formed in a moment. 

“ Since you remain here,” he said to him, “ I shall bo off ; when I came to 
speak to the captain, I left a nearly full bottle of mezcal at the tocanda of 
Master Cosperto, and on my word I feel inclined to go and finish it.” 

“ My duty does not keep me here,” the Indian answered. “ I have a long 
ride to make.” 

“ A long ride 1 ” the adventurer exclaimed ; “ carai 1 it is the same case 
with me, and I know no better preservative against the night cold than mezcal. 
If your inclinations lie in the same way, it is at your service.” 

“ Upon due reflection, I see no harm in it.” 

“ Let us make haste, then,” the brigand continued. 

The adventurer honourably kept his word : not only did he order a bottle of 
mezcal, but at the same time one of excellent Cata’onian refino. The Indian’s 
prudence was entirely routed by such generosity ; the more so because he had 
no reason to distrust the bandit. When they had finished, the bandit rose, 
paid the score, and called for another bottle of refino. 

“This is for the road,” he said. 

“ An excellent idea,” remarked the assistento, whose eyes flashed like car- 
buncles, and who was beginning to have a very vague notion of the state of 
affairs. They left the rancho, and mounted their horses. When the adven- 
turer found himself in the open country he drew a deep breath of relief, as he 
gave his too confiding comrade a sarcastic glance. 

“ Now,” he said, “ we must take the shortest road, in order to arrive sooner." 

“ What, are there two roads ? ” Isedro asked. 

. “ There are ten,” Kidd replied, coolly ; “ but the shortest runs almost in a 

right line, and passes close to the Hacienda del Toro.” 

' “ Let us take that, then.” 

“ Ah,” the adventurer said, pleasantly, “ let us take a drink and start.” Un- 
^»rking the bottle, he took a pull, and then handed it to his companion, who 
imitated him, with an evident expression of pleasure. 

1 “ You say, then,” Kidd resumed, as he smacked his lips, “that you are going 

•to the Hacienda del Toro?” 

' “ Yes, I am.” 

“ It is a good house, and most hospitable.” 


Complications. 


*05 


** Do you know it P ” 

“ Carai ! I should think so. The majordomo is my intimate friend. What 
happy days I have spent with that excellent Senor Paredes ! ” 

“ Since it is your road, why not call there with me, as you are certain of a 
kind reception ? ” 

“ I do not say I will not ; I suppose you are going to ask the marquis for 
some men, as soldiers are scarce at the pueblo ? ” 

“ I do not think that is the case. Don Hernando has already authorised the 
captain to enlist his miners, and the peons left him he will need to defend the 
hacienda in the event of an attack.” 

“ That is true ; besides, it is no business of mine. Let every man have his 
own secrets.” 

“ Oh, I do not think there is any great secret in the matter; the captain is a 
near relation of the marquis ; they often write to each other.” 

“ That is probable ; the more so because it is said that the marquis’s affairs 
are in a very bad state at present.” 

“Yes, yes,” the Indian continued, “but the affairs of the marquis might easily 
be arranged sooner than is supposed, comrade.” 

“ With his name it cannot be difficult to procure money.” 

“ Nonsense ! that is not the point, and I know what I know.” 

“ Exactly, Senor Isedro, and as what you know may be a secret, I will not 
urge you to tell it me.” 

The intoxication of the Opatas was at its height. Excited even more by 
the horse’s gallop and the adventurer’s artfully managed questions, Isedro felt 
passion mount to his head. The intoxications of Indians is horrible : they be- 
come raving madmen ; their heated brain gives birth to the strangest halluci- 
nations, and under the influence of spirits they are capable of the greatest 
crimes. The bandit was aware of all these peculiarities, by which he hoped to 
profit. They were riding at this moment along the course of a small stream, 
a confluent of trie Rio Bravo del Norte, whose wooded banks afforded sufficient 
concealment. The adventurer made his horse bound on one side, and, drawing 
his machete, exclaimed — 

“ Brute, drunken Opatas ! ” At the same moment he dealt the poor 
fellow such a sudden blow that he fell off his horse like a log. Was he dead? 
Kidd supposed so ; but the bandit was a very prudent man. Indians are crafty, 
and this death might be a feint. 

A quarter of an hour had elapsed, and the Indian had not made a movement. 
Reassured by this complete immobility, the bandit resolved to dismount and 
go up to him. All at once the Opatas rose; with a tiger leap he bounded on 
the adventurer, twined his arms round him, and the two men rolled on the 
ground, uttering savage yells, and trying to take each other’s life. It was a 
short but horrible struggle. The Opatas, in spite of his wounds, derived a 
factitious strength from the fury that animated him and the excitement pro- 
duced by intoxication, which was heightened by his ardent desire to take 
revenge for the cowardly treachery of which he was the victim. 

Unhappily, the efforts he was compelled to make opened his wounds, and his 
blood flowed in streams ; and 'with his blood he felt his life departing. He 
made a supreme effort to strangle the miserable adventurer in his clenched 
fingers; but the latter, by a sudden and cleverly calculated movement, suc- 
ceeded in liberating himself from the Indian’s iron grasp. He rose quickly, 
and at the moment when the assistento recovered from his surprise, and pre- 
pared to renew the fight, Kidd raised his machete, and cleft the poor fellow’s head. 

He reflected for a few momeutsi then walked up to the corpse, turned 


it over, and opened the breast of the uniform to obtain the letter. He had no 
difficulty in finding it ; he placed it in his own pocket, and then stripped his 
victim, on the chance that he might want to use his uniform. 

Before leaving the scene of the murder, the bandit carefully washed the 
soldier’s clothes, and removed any blood-stains from his own ; then, after 
assuring himself by a searching glance that there was nothing to denounce the 
crime < f which he had been guilty, he whistled up his horse, and mounted, 
after carefully fastening the soldier’s uniform behind him. He rolled a ciga- 
rette, lit it, and set out again, with the satisfaction of a man who had just suc- 
ceeded in a most important affair, which had caused him great anxiety. 

It was somewhat by chance that Kidd originally told the assistento that he 
was proceeding to Arispe ; but the discovery of the letter, and the soldier’s 
confidential remarks, had converted this chance into certainty. The bandit 
comprehended of what importance it would be to Don Rufino to be informed 
of all that was going on at the pueblo at the Hacienda del Toro, that he might 
be able to arrange his plans with certainty. 

As Kidd was well known he easily obtained admission to the town ; but when 
he had passed the gates he reflected that it was too early for him to call on the 
senator. Hence he proceeded straight to a rancho he knew — a suspicious den, 
the usual gathering-place of fellows of his sort. The ranchero greeted him 
with the most agreeable smile. 

The adventurer entered the rancho, leaving his horse in the corral, and 
immediately began to arrange his toilette, which was, as a general rule, 
neglected. 

When the Cabildo clock struck nine Kidd thought it was time to be off ; he 
rose, majestically threw a piastre on the table in payment of his score, wrapped 
his zarape round him, and left the house. 

“ Whom can he have assassinated to be so rich ? ” the ranchero asked 
himself. 

Kidd felt he was watched, and hence carefully avoided going straight to the 
senator’s house. The adventurer walked about the town for half-an-hour ; thus 
he gradually approached the senator’s mansion, and hurriedly slipped under the 
sanguan. 

“ Holloa 1 you fellow 1 ” a domestic suddenly shouted to him, “ What do you 
want here ? ” 

“ What can I want except to see his excellency, Don Rufino ? ” 

“ Excellent ! ” the other said, derisively ; “ and do you suppose his excellency 
will receive you, who look much more like a lepero than a caballero ? ” 

“ You are not polite, my good fellow ; what you say may be correct, but the 
remark is uncalled for. Patched clothes often conceal very honourable 
Caballeros.” 

The servant shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. Still he reflected, and 
asked, with a more conciliatory tone than he had yet employed — 

“ Your name ? ” 

“ You do not want to know it ; merely tell your master that I have just come 
from the Hacienda del Toro.” 

“ If that is the case, why did you not tell me so before ? ” 

“ Probably because you did not ask me. Go and announce me.” 

The domestic went off without replying, and Kidd took advantage of his 
departure to install himself in the vestibule. The absence of the servant was 
not long, and when he returned his manner was entirely changed. 

“ Caballero,” he said, with a bow, “ his excellency is waiting for you.” 

“ Fellow ! ” the adventurer said, with a contemptuous glance, “ show the way." 


Compli :ations. 


107 


And, laughing in his beard, he followed the footman. 

The adventurer remarked with some degree of pleasure that the valet led 
him through several rooms before reaching the one in which the senator was 
sitting; at length he turned the handle of the door, threw it open, and stepped 
aside to let the bandit pass. The latter walked in boldly. 

“ Ah ! ” said the senator, starting slightly at seeing, hhn ; “ it is you ?” 

“ Yes,” he replied, with a graceful bow. 

“ Retire,” Don Rufino said to the valet ; “ I am not at home to any one,” 

The valet bowed, went out, and closed the door behind him. 

“ What do you want ? ” Don Rufino then asked. 

“To talk about serious matters,” said Kidd. 

“ It is you then, bandit ? ” the senator said. 

“ I fancy I can notice that you did not expect me.” 

“ I confess it. I will even add that I did not in the slightest desire your 
visit.” 

“ You are very forgetful of your friends, Don Rufino.” 

“ What do you mean, scoundrel, by daring to use such language to me ?” 

“ I must observe,” said Kidd, with the most imperturbable coolness, “ that 
you forgot to offer me a chair.” 

Then, crossing one leg over the other, he began rolling a cigarette, a task to 
which he gave the most serious attention. 

The senator felt the bandit must be humoured. He therefore immediately 
softened the expression of his face, and handed the adventurer a beautifully 
chased gold mechero. 

“ Pray light your cigarette, my dear Kidd,” he said, with a pleasant smile. 

“ Ah ! ” exclaimed the bandit, with a splendidly feigned regret, “ I have 
dreamed for years that I possessed such a toy, but, unluckily, fortune has ever 
thwarted me.” 

“ If it please you so much,” Don Rufino answered, with a mighty effort, 
“ I shall be delighted to make you a present of it.” 

“ You are really most generous.” 

And, after lighting his cigarette, he unceremoniously placed the mechero in 
his pocket. 

“ Of course your visit has an object?” the senator said, after a moment’s 
interval. 

“ They always have, Don Rufino,” the other answered ; “ the first was to 
see you.” 

“ I thank you for the politeness ; but I do not think that is sufficient reason 
for forcing your way in here.” 

“ Forcing is rather a harsh word,” the bandit said. “ But come, Don Rufino, 
let us deal fairly, and not waste our time.” 

“ I wish nothing better. Speak, then, and the plague take you ! ” 

“ Thank you. I have come, not to propose a bargain, but to seW you certain 
information and a letter of the utmost importance.” 

“ Good ! Let us see whether I can accept the bargain.” 

“ In the first place, allow me to say two words. Our situation ha3 greatly 
changed during the last few days ; you are now afraid of me. ’ 

“ I afraid of you ?” 

“Yes, senor, because I hold your secret, and you can no longer threaten to 
kill me.” 

“ Oh I And why not, if you please ? ” the senator asked. 

“ Because we are alone ; you are unarmed ; I am stronger than you ; and at 
your slightest movement 1 would blow out your brains like those of a wild 


io8 


Stronghand. 


beast. Do you now comprehend me, my dear sir ? ” he added, as he produced 
a brace of pistols. 

The senator only shrugged his shoulders, and smiled. 

“ Laugh if you like, my master ; but I repeat that you are in my power. 1 
can deliver to Captain Don Marcos Niza certain papers, which, were they 
opened by him, might, I fear, gravely compromise you. There is one among 
them — ‘ I, the undersigned, declare that my valet, Lupino Contrarias, has 
treacherously assassinated and deserted me in a frightful desert, and there* 
plundered me of everything I possessed, consisting of two mules laden with 
gold-dust, and two thousand three hundred gold ounces in current money. On 
the point of appearing before my God, I denounce this wretch,” etc., etc. 

‘ Signed .’ * Shall I tell the name of the signer ? But what is the matter 

with you, my dear sir ? Do you feel ill ? You are as pale as a corpse.” 

In truth, on hearing the narrative, which the bandit told with a species of 
complacency, the senator was seized with a violent fit of terror. 

“ It is extraordinary,” the bandit continued, “ how nothing can be trusted to 
in this world.” 

By a supreme effort of will the senator had restored calmness to his face, 
and forced his lips to smile. 

“ Carai 1 ” he said, with a laugh “ that is a wonderful story, and admirably 
arranged. But who on earth do you expect to believe such a story ? ” 

You, first of all, for you know the truth of the story ; and the proofs are in 
my hands.” 

“ I do not say they are not j but, admitting the reality of the facts you allege, 
they took place a long time ago. This Lupino Contrarias has disappeared ; he 
is dead, perhaps. As for his master, the pistols were too well loaded to give 
him a chance of escape.” 

“ How do you know that the weapons were so carefully loaded ? ” 

“ I suppose so.” 

“ But,” said Kidd, “ continuing our suppositions, let us admit for a moment 
that this master, whom his valet is persuaded he killed, should be, on the con- 
trary, alive and ” 

“ Oh, that is quite impossible.” 

“ Do not interrupt me so, senor. And I say, were he to lay his hand on his 
valet’s shoulder, as I lay mine on yours, and assert, ‘ This is my assassin 1 * 
what answer would you give to that ? ” 

“ I — 1 1 ” the senator exclaimed, wildly ; “ what answer should I give ? ” 

“ You would give none,” the bandit continued ; ” overcome by the evidence, 
and crushed by the very presence of your victim, you would be irretrievably 
lost.” 

There was a second of horrible silence between these two men, who looked 
at each other as if about to have a frightful contest. 

‘‘ After this, what would you of me ?” said the senator, sharply. 

” I am waiting to hear your resolution befoife I offer any conditions.” 

Don Rufino Contreras remained for some minutes plunged in deep thought*. 

” Well, yes,” he said at last, “ all that you have narrated is true. I cowardly 
assassinated, to rob him of his fortune, the man who offered me a helping hand 
in my misery, and treated me as a friend rather than a servant. But this for- 
tune, however badly it may have been acquired, I possess ; by its means I have 
acquired a position in the world ; by roguery and falsehood I have succeeded 
in imposing on everybody ; I have rank and a name ; and death alone couicf 
make me resign this position, so hardly attained. So what do you want P 
Reflect carefully, then, before answering me, comrade, for my proposition is in 


A Friendly Bargain, 


109 


earnest. Once the bargain is concluded between us we will say no more about 
it. I give you ten minutes to answer me.” 

This clear and categorical proposal affected the bandit more than he liked to 
show. He understood that he had to do with one of those indomitable men 
who, once they have made their mind up, never alter it. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

A FRIENDLY BARGAIN, 

Don Rufino, with his head resting on his right hand, was carelessly playing 
with a paper-knife, and patiently waiting till his visitor thought proper to 
speak. This affected indifference perplexed the adventurer. 

“ Before all, Don Rufino,” said the bandit, ” I must tell you the motives of 
my visit.” 

“ I do not at all care about them,” the senator answered, negligently. 

” I think that when you have heard what I have to say you will change your 
opinion, senor.” 

“ That is possible, and I do not deny it,” the senator said, ironically ; “ but 
you will allow, my dear Senor Kidd, that you interfere so thoroughly in my 
affairs that it is difficult for me to decide.” 

“ I will tell you, in the first place, that a certain Alguazil, Don Parfindo Purro 
by n ’me, arrived yesterday at the pueblo of Quitovar.” 

“ Very good,” the senator answered, looking fixedly at the bandit. 

“ Now, I do not know how it is, but the bailiff had scarce reached the 
pueblo ere by some strange fatality Captain de Niza was informed of his 
arrival.” 

” Only think of that ! ” the senator remarked, ironically. 

In spite of the strong dose of effrontery with which nature had endowed him, 
the adventurer felt involuntarily troubled. 

“ And still, through this implacable fatality, the captain was not only informed 
of the arrival of this worthy Don Parfindo, but also of the reasons that brought 
him,” Don Rufino continued. 

” How do you know that ? ” Kidd exclaimed, with pretended surprise. 

*' Oh, I guess it, that is all,” the senator replied ; “ but go on, pray.” 

“ As you are aware, the captain is a relation of the Marquis de Moguer,” the 
bandit went on. 

“ Yes, and a very near relation.” 

” Hence he did not hesitate, but at once sent off a messenger to the Hacienda 
del Toro, carrying a letter in which he probably gave the most circumstantial 
details about the bailiff.” 

“ Ah, that letter ! ” Don Rufino exclaimed, “ that letter 1 I would give its 
weight in gold for it.” 

“ Very well, senor,” the bandit remarked ; “ I give it you for nothing,” 


110 


Stronghand, 


He took the letter from his pocket, and handed it to the senator ; the latter 
bounded on it like a tiger on its prey, and tore it from Kidd’s hands. 

“ Gently, gently ; be good enough to remark that the seal is not broken.” 

How did this letter fall into your hands ?” the senator asked. 

“ Oh, very simply,” the other replied, lightly; “ just fancy that the man the 
captain selected to carry his missive was a friend of mine. As I intended .o 
pay you a visit at Arispe, and as I felt grieved at seeing this man traverse 
such a dangerous road alone by night, I offered to accompany him, and he con- 
sented. That is the whole story.” 

“ It is really most simple,” Don Rufino remarked, with a smile, and broke the 
seal. 

He read the letter through with the utmost attention, and then let his head 
hang on his chest, and fell into deep thought. 

“ Well,” the adventurer asked, “ is the news that letter conveys so very 
bad?” 

“The news is of the utmost importance to me, senor; still, I ask myself for 
what purpose you seized it ? ” 

“ Did I not tell you that 1 wish to make a bargain ? ” the bandit said. 

“ That is true ; but I am awaiting a full explanation from you.” 

“ I see that you are beginning to understand me, and that, between the pair 
of us, we shall come to something.” 

“ You are not rich,” the senator remarked, frankly approaching the point. 

“ I am forced to confess that I am not actually rolling in wealth.” 

“ Well, if you like I will make you a rich man at one stroke.” 

“ What do you mean by rich, senor ? ” the bandit asked, distrustfully. 

“ I have in Upper California a hacienda, of which I will hand you the title- 
deeds this very day.” 

“ Huml ” said Kidd, thrusting out his upper lip; “ is the hacienda a fine 
one ? ” 

“ Immense ; covered with ganado and manades of wild horses ; it is situated 
near the sea.” 

“That is something, I allow; but that is not wealth.” 

“ I will add to this hacienda a round sum of one hundred thousand piastres in 
gold.” 

“ Wliat ! ” said the bandit, rising as if moved by a spring, and turning pale 
with joy, “ did you say — one hundred thousand ? ” 

“ Yes, I repeat,” the senator continued ; “ with such a sum it is possible to be 
honest.” 

“ Viva Christo ! I should think so ! ” he exclaimed, gleefully. 

“ It only depends on yourself to possess it within a week.” 

“ Oh, yes, I understand ; there is a condition. Carai 1 ” 

“ This is the condition ; listen to me, and, above all, understand me 
thoroughly.” 

“ Carai J I should think so ; a hacienda and one hundred thousand piastres ! ” 

“ You must not impede my prospects in any way ; allow me to espouse Dona 
Marianna, and on the day of the marriage hand me the tablets which you took 
from the gentleman so unhappily assassinated by his valet.” 

“Very vvell. Is that all?” 

“ I insist that when you deliver me the tablets, you will supply proof that the 
writer is really dead.” 

“ Cuerpo de Christo ! the man is not so easily to be taken unawares.” 

“ Yes ; but once that he is dead you will be rich.” 

•*! know that, and it is a consideration. No matter; it will be a tough job/ 


The Hacienda del Toro, 


f IT 


-Yon can take it or leave it.” 

' f take it, viva Christo I I take it. Never shall I find again such a 
chance.” 

“ Then that matter is quite settled between us ? ” 

“ Most thoroughly; you can set your mind at rest.” 

“ In that case, I will not detain you. Good-bye.” 

“Till we meet again, senor.” 

“Show this Caballero out,” the senator said to the man-servant. 

The two men bowed for the last time as if they were the best friends in the 
world, and then separated. 

“ Villain 1 ” Don Rufino exclaimed, so soon as he was alone ; “ if ever I can 
make you pay me for all, I will not spare you.” 

*' Hang it all I ” the bandit said to himself ; “ the affair has been hot. I 
believe that I shall act wisely in distrusting my friend ; if the dear senor has a 
chance of playing me an ill turn he will not let it slip.” 

When he had ended this soliloquy he found himself under the sanguan, where the 
man-servant took leave of him with a respectful bow. Kidd found the ranchero 
standing in his doorway', attentively surveying the approaches to his house. 

“ Eh ! ” the host said, with a bow, “ back already ? ” 

“ As you see, compadre ; but let me have my breakfast at once.” 

“ Are you going to leave us already ? ” 

“ I do not know ; come, pray make haste.” 

The ranchero served him without further questioning. The adventurer made 
a hearty meal, paid liberally to appease his host’s ill-temper, saddled his horse, 
and set out, without saying whether be should return or not. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE HACIENDA DEL TORO. 

We will now leap over an interval of a fortnight, and return to the Hacienda 
del Toro. 

Dona Marianna, persuaded by Dona Esperanza, or perhaps unconsciously 
attracted by the secret longings of her heart, had consented to remain a couple 
of days with her. These days were occupied with pleasant conversation, in 
which the maiden at length disclosed the secret which she imagined to be 
buried in the remotest nook of her heart. 

Stronghand, for his part, had yielded to the magical fascination the maiden 
exercised over him. Carried away by the feelings that agitated him, he dis- 
played all the true prudence and goodness contained in his character, which 
was, perhaps, rather savage, but it was that loyal and powerful savageness 
which pleases women, by creating in them a secret desire to conquer these 
rebellious natures, and dominate them by their delicious seductions. 

During the two days the young couple did not once utter the word love, and 


113 


Strojighand. 


yet they clearly explained it, and no longer entertained a doubt as to t/seif 
mutual attachment. 

Still, it was time to think about returning to the hacienda. It was settled 
that Dona Marianna should inform her father about what she had learned from 
Dona Esperanza. 

“ Take care,” the maiden said ; “my only hope is in you. If you fail in youf 
plans I shall be left alone defenceless.” 

“ Trust to me. Dona Marianna ; I have staked my happiness and my life on 
the terrible game I am preparing to play.” 

“ I will pray to Heaven for both you and myself.” 

These words, with which the young people parted, were equivalent to a 
mutual agreement. Dona Esperanza tenderly embraced the maiden. 

“ Remember the gold,” she said to her ; and Dona Marianna replied with a 
smile. 

The tigrero held the horses by the bridle. Stronghand and ten hunters pre- 
pared to follow the travellers at a distance, in order to help them, should it be 
necessary. The journey was performed in silence. 

As Dona Marianna had expressed a wish to reach their journey’s end as 
quickly as possible, Marianno took a different road from that which he had pre- 
viously followed. 

At about three p.m. they came in sight of the rock, and began scaling the path, 
and then noticed the hunters, commanded by Stronghand, drawn up in good 
order on the skirt of the forest. Dona Marianna waved her handkerchief in 
the air, entered the hacienda, and the first person she met was Paredes. 

“ Valga mi dios / nina,” he exclaimed ; “ where have you come from ?” 

“ Does not my father know that I have been to pay a visit to my nurse ?” 

“Your brother told him so, nina ; but as your absence was so prolonged, the 
marquis was afraid tnat some accident had happened to you.” 

“You see that it was not so, my good Paredes.” 

“ Don Hernando will be pleased at your return, nina ; he is at this moment 
engaged with Don Ruiz in inspecting the walls on the side of the huerta, in 
order to make certain that they are in a sound condition, for we fear more and 
more an attack from the Indians.” 

“ In that case do not disturb my father, and I will go and rest in the drawing- 
room. It is unnecessary to importune him now.” 

“ Importune him ! ” exclaimed the honest majordomo ; “ excuse me,.senorita, 
if I am not of your opinion on that head.” 

“ In that case, act as you think proper, my worthy Paredes.” 

The majordomo, who had probably only been waiting for this permission, ran 
off. 

The young lady now entered her apartments. 

Don Hernando heard, with a lively feeling of joy, of his daughter’s return. 
When he entered, with Don Ruiz, the room in which Dona Marianna was 
awaiting him, he opened his arms, and embraced her tenderly. 

“ Naughty girl ! ” he exclaimed; “ why did you stay away from us so long?” 

“ My dear father, during my entire absence I was only thinking of you.” 

“ Alas ! ” the marquis murmured, with a choking sigh, “ I know your hearty 
my poor child.” 

“ Perhaps you may be saved, father,” she said, with a toss of her head. 

“ Do not attempt to lead me astray by false hope, which in the end woul(| 
render our frightful situation even more cruel than it is.” 

“ I do not wish to do so, father,” she said, earnestly ; “ but I bring you a cer- 
tainty.” 


The Hacienda del Toro, 


U5 

' 

** A certainty, child I Where do you expect to find means to conjure ill for- 
tune ? » 

“ Not very far off, father ; at this very place, if you like.” 

Don Hernando made no reply, but let his head drop on his chest mournfully. 

“ Listen to Marianna, father,” Don Ruiz then said ; “ she isthe angel of our 
home.” 

“ Thanks, Ruiz. Oh, you are right ; I would sooner die than dream of in- 
creasing my father’s grief.” 

“ I know it, child,” the marquis answered ; “ but you are young and inex- 
perienced.” 

“ Why not listen to what my sister has to say, father ? ” Don Ruiz said. 

“ Of what good is it, children ?” 

“ Good heavens, father 1 in our fearful situation we should neglect nothing. 
Listen to my sister first.” 

“ As you press it, Ruiz, I will hear her.” 

** I do not press, father, I entreat. Come, speak, little sister.” ‘ 

Dona Marianna smiled sweetly, threw her arms round her father’s neck, and 
laid her head on his shoulder with a charming gesture. 

“ How I love you, my dear father 1 ’’ she said ; “ how I should like to see you 
happy 1 I have nothing to tell you, for you will not believe me ; and what I 
might have to say is so strange and improbable, that you would not put faith in 
it.” 

“ You see, child, that I was right.” 

“ Wait a moment, father,” she continued ; “ if I have nothing to tell you, I 
have a favour to ask.” 

“ A favour 1 — ^yes, my dear.” 

“Yes, father, a favour; but what I desire is so singular that I really do not 
know how to make my request.” 

“ Oh, oh, little maid,” the marquis said, with a smile, “ it must be a very ter- 
rible thing for you to hesitate so in revealing it.” 

“ No, father, it is not terrible ; but, I repeat, it will appear to you wild.* 

“ Oh, my child,” he continued, “ I have seen so many wild things for some 
time past, that I shall not attach any importance to one now.” 

“ Listen to me, father : the favour I ask of you you must promise to grant.” 

“ Caramba 1 ” he said, good-humouredly, “ you are taking your precautions, 
senorita. But reassure yourself, I pledge you my word which you ask for so 
peremptorily. Are you satisfied now ? ” 

“ Oh, father, how kind you are 1 You really mean it now ? You pledge your 
word ? ” 

“Yes, yes, little obstinate, I do pledge my word.” 

The girl danced with delight, as she clapped her pretty little hands. 

“ On my word, this little girl is mad 1 ” the marquis said, with a smile. 

“ Yes, father, mad with delight ; for I hope soon to prove to you that your 
fortune has never been more flourishing than it now is. I have a great project 
in my head ; but, in order that it may be thoroughly successful, I must be niis- 
tress of my actions, without control or remarks, from eight o’clock this evening 
till midnight.” 

“ I have promised it,” Don Hernando replied, with a smile. “ A gentleman 
has only his word. Musi 1 announce this officially to our people ? ” he added, 
sportively. 

“ It is unnecessary, father ; only two persons need be told.” 

“ And who are these two privileged persons, if you please ? ” 

** My foster-brother, Marianno, the tigrero, and Jose Paredes.” 


Stronghand, 


II4 


“ Come, I see you know where to place your confidence/’ 

“ These men must be provided with picks, spades, crow bars and lanterns." 

“ Stories about buried treasure are thoroughly worn out in this country, my 
child,” he said, with a dubious shake of his head. 

“ I can offer you no explanation, father. You are ignorant of my plan,’- she 
said, with an exquisite smile. “ You ought not to give an example of rebellion 
. to my new subjects.” 

“ That is perfectly true, my dear child ; I am in the wrong.” 

“ I have only a word to add. You and Ruiz must also provide yourselves 
with tools.” 

“ Oh, oh, that is rather hard — not on me, who am young,” Don Ruiz ex- 
claimed, “but on father.” 

“ I may have to lend a hand myself,” Dona Marianna exclaimed. “ Believe 
me, Don Ruiz, you should not tr^at this affair lightly.” 

“ Not I, sister.” 

“ Yes, Ruiz, you do, although you don’t like to allow it.” 

“ What you desire shall be done, daughter,” Don Hernando said ; “ and, 
whatever the result may be, I shall feel grateful to you for the efforts you are 
making.” 

Don Ruiz, by his father’s orders, warned the majordomo and the tigrero, 
who were already preparing to return to the rancho. 


CH.4PTER XXXIII. 

THE HUERTA. 

The Hacienda del Toro possessed a huerta or garden which the Marquises de 
Moguer had in turn sought to embellish. This huerta contained in all thirty 
acres — that is to say, a surface of about twelve square miles. When the curfew 
was rung and the majordomo had assured himself that the sentries were at their 
posts, he made a general inspection of the whole hacienda, and then proceeded, 
accompanied by the tigrero, to the blue room, where Don Hernando and his 
son and daughter were assembled. 

“ All is in order, mi amo,” he said, “ everybody has retired to his jacal.” 

You are quite certain, Paredes, that no one is walking about ? ” 

“ No o«e ; I made my rounds with the greatest strictness.” 

“ Very good ; now, daughter, you can give your orders.” 

Dona Marianna bowed to her father with a smile. 

“ Paredes,” she said, “ have you procured the tools my brother ordered ? " 

“ Nina,” he answered, “ I have placed six picks, six crowbars, and six 
spades in a clump of carob trees.” 

“ Why such a number of tools ? ” she asked, laughingly, 

“ Because, senorita, some may break.” 

“ You are right. Follow me, senors,” 


T,he Huerta. 


I ’.5 


“ And the lanterns P ” Don Ruiz observed. 

“ We will take them with us out not light them till we reach the spot whither 
1 am taking you. Our lights might be seen and arouse suspicion, and that is 
what we must avoid most of all.” 

“ Excellently reasoned, daughter.” 

Dona Marianna rose, and the four men followed her in silence. They crossed 
the apartments instead of passing through the patios, which were thronged 
with sleepers, and entered the huerta by large double doors, from which the 
garden was reached by a flight of steps. On leaving the blue room Dona 
Marianna took the precaution to blow out the candles, so that the hacienda 
was plunged into complete darkness, and all appeared asleep. 

After an instant — not of hesitation, for the maiden, although her heart was 
beating loudly, was firm and resolute — but of reflection. Dona Marianna 
rapidly descended the steps and entered the garden, closely followed by the 
four men, who also experienced an internal emotion for which they could not 
account. They had gone but a few yards when they halted ; they had reached 
the thicket in which the tools were concealed. The majordomo and the tigrero 
took them on their shoulders, while the marquis and his son carried the 
lanterns. 

The marquis and his son felt their curiosity increase from moment to moment. 
They saw the girl so gay, and so sure of herself, that they involuntarily began 
to hope, although they found it impossible to explain the nature of their hopes 
to themselves. 

The young lad^ still walked on, stopping at times and muttering a few 
words in a low voice, as if trying to remember the instructions she had pre- 
viously received, but never hesitating, or taking one walk for another ; in a 
word, she did not once retrace her steps when she had selected her course. 

At length Dona Marianna halted. 

“ Light the lanterns,” she said. 

This was the first remark made since they left the blue room. The lanterns 
were instantly lighted. 

“ Show me a light, Ruiz,” said Dona Marianna. 

The spot where they found themselves was situated at nearly the centre of 
the huerta ; it was a species of grass-plot, on which only stubbly, stunted grass 
grew. In the centre rose a sort of tumulus, formed of several rocks piled on 
one another without any apparent symmetry, and which the owners of the 
hacienda had always respected in consequence of its barbarous singularity. An 
old tradition asserted that one of the old kings gf Cibola, on the ruins of which 
town the hacienda was built, had been buried at the spot, which was called 
“ The Tomb of the Cacique,” after the tradition, whether it were true or 
false. 

“ Ah, ah 1 ” said the marquis, “ so you have brought us to the cacique’s tomb, 
my girl ? ” 

'• Yes, father ; we can now begin operations without fear of being seen.® 

“ I greatly fear that your hopes have led you astray.” 

“ You promised, father, to make no remarks.” 

“ That is true, and so I will hold my tongue.” 

“ Very good, father,” she said, with a smile; ‘*you will soon be duly re* 
wanled.” 

And the young lady continued her investigations. 

“ In what direction does the clump of old aloes lie ? ” she at length 
asked. 

The majordomo looked round for a moment, and then, placing himself in a 


ij6 Strong hand. 


certain direction, said — “ The aloes of Cibola, as we call them, are just facing 
me.” 

“ Are you certain of it, Paredes P ” 

“ Yes, nina, I am.” 

The young lady immediately placed herself by the majbrdomo’s side, and, 
bending down over the stones, examined them with extreme care and attention. 
At length she drew herself up with a start of joy. 

“ My father,” she said, with emotion, “ the honour of dealing the first stroke 
belongs to you.” 

“ Very good, my child ; where am I to strike ? ” 

“ There ! ” she said, pointing to a rather large gap between two stones. 

Don Hernando drove in the pick, and, pressing on it forcibly, detached a 
stone, which rolled on the grass. 

“ Very good,” said the girl. “ Now stop, father, and let these young men 
work ; you can join them presently, should it prove necessary. Come, Ruiz- 
come, tocayo — come, Paredes — to work, my friends 1 ” 

The three men set to work ardently, excited by Dona Marianna’s words, and 
soon the stones, leaping from their bed of earth, began to strew the ground 
around in large numbers. Not one of the three men suspected the nature of 
the task he was performing, and yet such is the attraction of a secret that they 
drove in their picks with extraordinary ardour. All at once they stopped in 
discouragement, for an enormous mass of rock resisted their efforts. 

“Why are you stopping, brother?” Dona Marianna asked. 

“ Because we have reached the rock, and should break our picks, without 
getting any further.” 

The young lady took a lantern and looked; then, without answering her 
brother, she turned to Paredes and the tigrero. 

“ You,” she said, “ are old servants of the family, and I can order you with- 
out any fear of being contradicted ; so obey me. Remove, as rapidly as pos- 
sible, all the stones round that supposed rock, and when that is done, I fancy I 
shall convince the most incredulous.” 

The two men resumed work ; and Don Ruiz, piqued by his sister’s remark, 
imitated them. The marquis, with folded arms and head bowed on his chest, 
was overcome by such persistency, and began to hope again. Ere long the 
stones were removed, and the mass o'f rock stood solitary. 

“ Father,” said the young lady, “ you dealt the first blow, and must deal the 
last ; help these three men in removing this block.” 

Without replying, the marquts seized a pick, and placed himself by the side 
of the workers. The four men dug their tools into the friable earth which 
adhered to the rock ; then, with a common and gradual effort, they began 
raising the stone until it suddenly lost its balance, toppled over, and fell on the 
ground, revealing a deep excavation. 

“ Burn some wood to purify the air,” the young lady said. 

They obeyed with feverish activity. 

“ Now come, father,” Dona Marianna said, as she boldly entered the excava- 
tion. 

, The marquis went in, and the rest followed him. After proceeding for about 
one hundred yards along a species of gallery, they perceived the body of a 
man, lying on a sort of clumsy dais, in a perfect state of preservation, and 
rather resembling a sleeping person than a corpse. Near the body the fleshless 
bones of another person were scattered on the ground, 

“ Look 1 ” said the maiden. 

“ Yes,” the marquis answered, “ it is the body interred under the tumulus,” 


The Assault on Quitovar. 


117 


You are mistaken father; it is the body of a miner, and the fancied 
tuiuulus IS nothing but a very rich gold mine, which has remained for ages 
under the guard of this insensate body. Look round you,” she said, raising the 
lantern. * 

The marquis uttered a cry of delight and admiration. Doubt was no longer 
possible. All around he saw enormous veins of gold, easy of extraction 
almost without labour. The marquis was dazzled, and fell unconscious on the 
floor of the mine. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

THE ASSAULT ON QUITOVAR. 

While these events were taking place at the Hacienda del Toro, others of all 
even more important nature were being carried out at the Real de Minas. 
Kidd, the adventurer, had scarce left Don Rufino, ere cthe senator made his 
preparations for departure, and at once set out for -the Real de Minas. At 
eight a.m. of the following day his first business was to present himself to the 
town commandant, Don Marcos de Niza. The captain not only received him 
coldly, but with a certaint amount of constraint. 

“ My dear captain,” the senator said, after the usual compliments, “ I am 
pleased at having been selected by the Presidential Government as its delegate 
to the military authorities of the State of Sonora.” 

The captain bowed, but said nothing. 

“ Firstly,” the senator continued, “ I make the acquaintance of an excellent 
Caballero ; secondly, before being joined in the command I asked for the rank 
of lieutenant-colonel for you, a step which, betjveen ourselves, you have long 
deserved.” 

And drawing from his pocket-book a large folded paper, he laid it in the hand 
which the captain mechanically held out. The senator had just counted on the 
skilfully managed surprise. The captain, confounded by the tardy justice done 
him, could not find a word to answer. 

” And now,” the senator continued, cutting short the thanks which the new 
colonel thought himself bound to offer, “ permit me to change the conversation, 
my dear colonel.” 

“ I am listening,” Don Marcos answered ; “ if I can be of any service ” 

“ Oh, merely to give me some information,” the senator interrupted him ; “ I 
will explain the matter in two words. I am, as you are probably aware, very 
intimate wit!*, a relative of yours, the Marquis de Moguer.” 

Don Marcos gave a deep bow. 

“ Now,” the senator continued, “the marquis, as you of course know, has 
been seriously tried of late ; in a word, between ourselves, he is almost ruined. 
Being most desirous to save a man with whom I shall be probably closely con- 
nected within a few days, not merely by the ties of friendship, but also by the 
closer links of relationship, I have bought up all his debts. The man whom 


Stronghand. 


ne 


I intrusted with this difficult negotiation will arrive immediately in tbb 
town. 

“ He arrived 9:)me days ago,” the colonel remarked. 

“ Indeed 1 ” Don Rufino exclaimed. “ Then I will claim a service at your 
hands.” 

“ A service ! ” Don Marcos exclaimed, with instinctive distrust. 

" Yes,” the senator continued, tranquilly ; “ I hardly know how to explain it 
to you, for it is so difficult, however friendly you may be with a man who 
daughter you are about to marry, to say to him, ‘ You owed enormous sums ; 
have bought up your debts ; here are the receipts ; burn them.’ ” 

“What ! ” the colonel exclaimed, in admiration, “ would you do that ?” 

“ I never had any other thought,” the senator replied, simply. 

“ Oh, it is a great and generous action, caballero.” 

“ Not at all ; on the contrary, it is quite natural. Don Hernando is my friend. 

I only did what any one else in my place would have done.” 

“ No, no,” Don Marcos said, shaking his head with an air of conviction ; 
“ no, senor, no one would have acted as you have done.” 

“ All the worse, all the worse, and I feel sorry for humanity,” Don Rufino 
said. 

“ What is the service you expect from me, senor ? * 

“ A very simple thing. I will give you in a few moments those un- 
lucky receipts, which I will ask you to be kind enough to hand to the 
marquis.” 

The senator went away leaving the colonel completely under the charm. He 
proceeded hastily to the meson where Don Parfindo was lodged. 

The senator’s conversation with his agent had occupied some time, and when 
Don Rufino returned to the colonel’s house he found the latter busy in making 
Known his new rank to his officers. When the two gentlemen wsre alone again 
the ice was completely broken between them, and they were the best friends in 
the world. 

“ Well ? ” the co’onel asked. 

“ All is settled,” the senator replied, as he produced the vouchers. 

“ Caramba ! you have lost no time.” 

“ The best things are those done quickly. Take all these documents.” 

While saying this, Don Rufino threw the papers on the table with an excel- 
lent affectation of delight. 

At this moment a^great noise was heard in the ante-room and a man rushed 
into the colonel’s sanctum, shouting at the top of his lungs, “ The Indians ! the 
Indians 1 ” 

The colonel and the senator rose. The man was Kidd ; his clothes were torn 
and disordered ; his face and hands were covered with blood and dust, and all 
apparently proved that he had just escaped from a sharp pursuit. 

“ Is that you, Kidd ? ” the colonel exclaimed. 

“ Yes,” he replied ; “ but lose no time, captain ; here are the pagans.” 

Without waiting to hear anything more, the colonel dashed out of the 
room. 

“ Where have you come from ? ” Don Rufino asked the bandit. 

The latter gave a start of disappointment on recognising the senator. 

“ How does that concern you ? ” the adventurer answered, roughly. 

“ Some treachery you have been preparing, of course.” 

“ That is possible,” he replied, with a knowing grin ; “ but 1 am not afraid 
©f you, for you would not dare kill me.” 

“ Why not ? ” 


The Assault on Quitovar. 


1 15 


In the first place, because it would cause a row, and because I do not think 
you such a friend of the captain that you would venture to take such a liberty 
in his house.” 

“ You are mistaken, villain, and you shall have a proof of it.” 

“ Holloa 1 ” the adventurer exclaimed, as he retired precipitately to the door. 

But with a gesture rapid as thought Don Rufino seized one of Don Marcos’s 
pistols, cocked it, and ere Kidd could effect the retreat he was meditat- 
ing he fired, and the adventurer lay on the ground with a bullet in his 
chest. 

“ Die, brigand ! ” the senator shouted, as he threw down the weapon he had 
used. 

“Yes,” the bandit muttered, “but not unavenged; your turn will soon 
arrive ” 

And stiffening with a final convulsion, the ruffian expired, retaining on his 
features even after death an expression of mocking defiance, which caused the 
senator an involuntary tremor. 

“ What is the matter here ? ” the colonel asked, suddenly entering. 

“ Nothing very important,” Don Rufino said, carelessly ; “ I was carried away 
by my passion, and settled this scoundrel.” 

“ Viva Dios ! You were right, senor ; I only regret that you have anticipated 
me, for I have proofs of his treachery. Ho, there ! Remove this carrion, and 
throw it out,” he shouted to some soldiers. 

The soldiers obeyed, and the adventurer’s body was thrown unceremoniously 
into the street. 

“ Are the Indians really coming up ? ” 

“ The dust raised by their horses’ hoofs can already be perceived. I suppose 
I can reckon on you ? ” 

“ Rayo de Dios ! I should hope so.” 

“ Come, then, for time presses.” 

Kidd had in reality prepared, with his usual Machiavelism, a new treachery, 
of which, unluckily for him, he was destined to be the first victim. The whole 
pueblo was in an uproar ; the streets were crowded with soldiers proceeding to 
their posts. 

On the distant plain the body of Indians could be seen through the dust- 
clouds, coming up at headlong speed. 

“ They are numerous,” the senator whispered to the colonel. 

“ Too many,” the latter answered ; “ but silence I let us look cheerful.” 

There were twenty minutes of indescribable anxiety, during which the 
defenders of the pueblo were enabled to examine their enemies, and form aa 
idea of the terrible danger that menaced them. 

Unhappily, the sun was on the point of setting, and it was evident that the 
red-skins had calculated their march so as to arrive exactly at that moment, and 
continue the attack through the night. 

Suddenly an immense light lit up the plain ; the black outlines of the Indians 
rose like diabolical apparitions, galloping in all directions ; a horrible, discord- 
ant, and shrill yell echoed in the ears of the Mexicans, and clouds of blazing 
arrows fell upon them from all sides at onoe, while the hideous heads of the 
red-skins appeared on the crest of the entrenchments. Then, in the light of a 
forest, kindled by the Indians to serve them as a beacon, an obstinate' hand-to- 
hand fight began between the white men and red-skins. 

The pueblo was captured ; any further resistance became not only impos- 
sible, but insensate. Collecting around them all the men they possessed, they 
dashed to the Plazar Mayor, where, in spite of the fight raging round them, the 


120 


Stronghand, 


squadron picked by Don Marcos had remained motionless, and leaping on their 
horses, they gave the order to start. Then the little band rushed forward like 
a hurricane, overthrowing and crushing all the obstacles that stood in their 
way. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

THE VENGEANCE OP HEAVEN. 

The marquis’s faint lasted but a short time, thanks to the attentions bis son 
and daughter paid him. 

“ My dear child,” he muttered, as he pressed her to his heart, *‘you are ouf 
saviour.” 

The gfirl, delighted with this praise, freed herself with a blush. 

“ Then,” she said, with a pretty toss of her head, “ you now allow, I think, 
father, that I have really kept my word.” 

” Oh. my child,” he said, ” there are here fifty fortunes.” 

“ Ah, how happy I am I I felt certain that she would not deceive me,” cried 
the girl. 

This remark, which escaped from the fulness of Dona Marianna’s heart, 
struck Don Hernando. 

“ To whom are you alluding, daughter, and who is this person P ” 

“ The one who revealed the existence of this treasure to me, father,” she 
answered. 

“ Marianno,” said the marquis, “ you will pass the night here ; allow no one 
to approach this excavation, for it would be imprudent to let strangers know of 
the existence of such a treasure.” 

” You can go without fear, mi amo^' the brave lad answered. 

The other four slowly returned to the hacienda, conversing about this mar- 
vellous discovery, which, at the moment when all seemed desperate, saved the 
family. In fact, the gold veins were so rich that it would be possible to 
detach in a single day enough nearly to cover all the debts contracted by the 
marquis. 

” Well,” the marquis said, “ you did not dream that so rich a mine existed on 
the estate.” 

“ In truth, father, some one was kind enough to give me the informa- 
tion.” 

“ But who can this person be, who is better acquainted than myself with a 
property which has been in the hands of the family more than three hundred 
years ? ” 

“ The probability is that the secret was well kept, father, by the old owners 
of the soil, of course.” 

” Nonsense 1 you are jesting, daughter. Those poor Indians disappeared long 
ago.” 

** I am not of that opinion, father,” Don Ruiz observed. 


The Vengeance of Heaven. 


ifti 


" The more so,” Paredes struck in, “ because I know for a fact that the tribe 
to which you allude still exists.” 

“ And you know, father, with what religious exactitude the Indians preserve 
secrets.” 

“ That is true ; but in that case some man must have spoken.” 

“ Or some woman,” Dona Marianna said, smilingly, 

“ Well, be it so — a woman,” the marquis continued ; “ that is already a piece 
of news.” 

“ Unhappily, father, I am prohibited from saying any more.” 

“ Humph ! prohibited ! ” 

“ Yes, father. However, reassure yourself; this mine is really yours — your 
lawful property.” 

On the next morning, by the orders of the marquis, the majordomo selected 
ten confidential rancheros and peons from those who had sought shelter at the 
hacienda, and the work commenced at once. The mine had been abandoned 
exactly in the state in which it was when the body of the miner was found by 
the Indians ; hence the mere sweepings formed a considerable amount, and at 
the expiration of four or five days the sum collected was sufficient not only to 
pay off all the debts, but also to leave at the disposal of the marquis a sum 
thrice as large as he owed. 

“ My dear child,” said the marquis one evening to Dona Marianna, “ you 
have not yet given me an answer on the subject of Don Rufino Contreras’ 
request for your hand ; but the week has long since passed,” 

The young lady blushed, and said, with a slight tremor in her voice — 

“ Father, I am doubtless highly honoured by this Caballero’s demand ; 
but do you not think as I do, that the moment is badly chosen for such a 
thing ? ” 

“ Very good, daughter ; but if he come himself to seek his answer, what shall 
we do?” 

“ It will be time enough to think of it then,” she replied, with a laugh. 

“ Well, well, that is true, and I was wrong to dwell on the matter, so good- 
night, my child.” 

“ Senor marquis,” said Paredes, suddenly opening the door, “ excuse my 
disturbing you so late ; but Marianno, the tigrero, has just arrived at the 
hacienda with his whole family ; he is the bearer of such strange and terrible 
news,” 

“ What does he say ? ” Don Ruiz asked, who entered the room at this 
moment. 

“ He says that the Indians have risen — that they have surprised the 
Quitovar.” 

“ Oh, that is frightful I ” the marquis exclaimed. 

“ Our poor cousin ! ” the young man added. 

“ That is true ; our unhappy cousin commanded. What a horrible 
<lisaster 1 ” 

Marianno was shown in, and related in their fullest details, though with some 
exaggeration, the events recorded in our last chapter, which threw his hearers 
into a profound stupor. 

This terrible news caused the marquis to reflect deeply. Now that the roads 
were probably infested with marauders, and communication intercepted by the 
Indians, he could not think of sending Paredes to Hermosillo, and the journey 
had become literally impossible. 

The whole night was spent in preparations. About two hours after sunrise, 
at the moment when the marquis, wearied by a long watch, was preparing to 


122 


Strongkand, 


take a little repose, the sentries signalled the approach of a body of horsemen 
coming at full gallop towards the hacienda. 

Some time elapsed ere these horsemen, who were climbing the hill, reached 
the hacienda gates. Then all doubts were removed : they were soldiers, and a 
few paces ahead of the troop rode Don Rufino and Colonel Don Marcos. But 
both leaders and soldiers were in such disorder, so blackened with gunpowder, 
so covered with dust and blood, that it was plain they had come from a recent 
fight, from which they had escaped as fugitives. Men and horses were utterly 
exhausted, not alone by the extraordinary fatigue they had undergone, but 
also by the gigantic struggle they had sustained ere they dreamed of 
flight. 

Don Marcos de Niza and the senator had hardly the strength to say a few 
words explanatory of the wretched condition in which they presented them- 
selves, and yielding to fatigue and want of sleep, they fell down in a state 
of complete insensibility, from which no attempt was made to rouse them, but 
they were both carried to bed. 

At three in the afternoon a fresh band of horsemen was signalled in the plain. 
This considerable party was composed entirely of hunters and wood-rangers. 
Don Ruiz gave orders not to open. 

“You cannot have looked, nino,” said the majordomo, “ when you order such 
a thing." 

“ On the contrary, I do so because I have looked,” he replied. 

“ Then you must have seen badly," the majordomo said ; “ otherwise you 
would have perceived that the horseman at their head is one of your most 
devoted friends.” 

“ Whom do you mean?” 

“ Who else than Stronghand ? " 

The hunters had no necessity even of parleying ; they found the hacienda 
gates wide open, and rode straight in without drawing rein. Don Ruiz 
recognised Stronghand, who, on his side, rode up to him and held out his 
hand. 

“ Grant me one favour, Don Ruiz,” he said. 

“ Speak,” the young man answered. 

“ Two words of conversation in your sister’s presence ; but wait a moment, 
another person must accompany you. Do you consent ? ” 

Don Ruiz hesitated. 

“^What do you fear ? ” the hunter continued ; “ do you not put your faith in 


“ I pledge you my word.” 

The hunter gave a signal, and a horseman dismounted and came up to them 
A long cloak entirely covered him, and the broad brim of his hat was pulled 
down over his eyes. He bowed silently to the young man, who, though greatly 
perplexed by this mystery, made no remark ; and after requesting the major- 
^mo to take care of the new-comers, he led his guests to the room in which 
Dona Marianna was seated. The young lady, on hearing the door open, mechani- 
cally raised her eyes. 

“ Oh ! ” she exclaimed, joyfully, “ Stronghand 1 ” 

” Myself, senorita," the young man replied j •• I have come to ask the fulfil, 
ment of your promise." 

“ Ruiz, V she said to her brother, eagerly, “until further orders, my father 
must not know of the presence of these Caballeros here.” ^ 

as^u^e,"^ difficult, sister; think of the responsibility I 


The Vengeance of Heaven. 


123 


** 1 know it, Rui 2 ; but it must be, my dear brother, for my happiness is at 
stake,” she continued. “ Do you not know this hunter ? ” 

“ Yes, I know him ; I am even under great obligations to him ; but his com- 
panion ? ” 

At this moment a sound of footsteps was heard in the adjoining room. 

“ What is to be done ? ” the maiden murmured. 

Stronghand laid his finger on his lips, and leading away his companion — 
who, through the thick cloak he wore, resembled a phantom rather than a man 
— disappeared behind the curtain. At the same instant the door opened, and 
two persons entered. They were Don Marcos and the senator. They had 
scarce exchanged the first compliments with Don Ruiz and Dona Marianna 
when the marquis entered the room. 

“ You are up at last, I am happy to see,” he said, cheerfully. 

“ A thousand thanks, cousin, for your hospitality, of which we stood in great 
need.” 

“ I am the more pleased at the chance, Don Rufino, as I intended to write to 
you immediately.” 

“ My dear sir,” the senator said, with a bow. 

“ Are you not expecting an answer from me ? ” 

“ I suppose I did not dare to hope.” 

“ Let us come to the most important point first,” continued the marquis, 
with a smile. “ Don Rufino, you have behaved to me like a real friend. By a 
miracle, I am in a position to arrange my affairs, and discharge my debt to 
you.” 

“ Obligations far greater than you suppose,” the colonel said. 

“ Don Rufino, unaware of the happy change in your fortunes, and wishing to 
save you from the frightful position in which you were, had bought up all your 
liabilities, and so soon as he had all the vouchers in his possession, he hurried 
with them to me, and implored me to destroy them. Here they are, cousin,” 
he added. 

The various actors in this singular scene were affected by strange feelings. 
Don Ruiz and his sister exchanged a look of despair. 

“ Oh 1 ” the marquis exclaimed, “ I cannot accept such an act of generosity.” 

“ From a stranger, certainly not,” Don Rufino remarked ; “ but I flattered 
myself that I was not such.” 

“ What is going on at this moment is so strange ; I feel taken so unawares,” 
the marquis presently continued ; “ my thoughts are so confused that I must 
beg you, Don Rufino, to defer till to-morrow the remainder of this conversa- 
tion.” 

“ My dear sir, I understand the delicacy of your remarks, and will wait as 
long as you think proper,” the senator replied. 

“ Yes,” said the colonel ; “ let us put off serious matters till to-morrow.” 

“ What has happened to you ? The pagans have not seized the Mineral de 
Quitovar ? or at least I hope not.” 

” Yes, they have, cousin ; the pueblo has been captured by the red-skins, 
sacked, and burnt.” 

“ That is disastrous news, cousin ; I had been told of it.” 

“ It is unhappily but too true,” 

“ Well, thank heaven, cousin, you are in safety here. As for you, Don 
Rufino, I am happy that you escaped from the horrible massacre ; you are not 
a soldier, you are ” 

“ An assassin ! ” a sepulchral voice suddenly exclaimed. 

The company turned with horror. Stronghand’s companion had let fall ths 


124 


Stronghand, 


hat and cloak that disguisad him, and was standing, stern and menacing, behind 
the senator. 

“ Oh ! ” the latter exclaimed, as he recoiled with terror, “ Don Rodolfo ! ” 

“ Brother, do I see you again after so many years ? ” the marquis said, joy- 
fully. 

“ The great sachem,” Dona Marianna murmured. 

The sachem thrust back with a gesture of sovereign contempt the startled 
senator, and walked into the centre. 

“ Yes, it is I, brother; I, the proscript, the disinherited, who enter the house 
of my father after an absence of twenty years, in order to save the last represen- 
tative of my family.” 

“ Oh, brother, brother! ” the marquis exclaimed, sorrowfully. 

“ Recover yourself, Hernando I I entertain no feeling of hatred or rancour 
for you. Come to my arms, brother ; let us forget the past, only to think of 
the joy of being reunited.” 

The marquis threw himself into his brother’s arms ; Don Ruiz and Dona 
^Marianna imitated him, and for some minutes there was an uninterrupted inter- 
change of embraces among the members of this family. 

" It was through me that you received the sum which Paredes was to receive 
at Hermosillo,” Don Rodolfo continued ; “to me you also owe the discovery of 
the gold mine which has saved you. This man,” he said, pointing to the 
senator, who was trembling with rage and terror — “ this man was my valet ; in 
order to rob me, he attempted to assassinate me cowardly, treacherously, 
behind my back. Such is the man whose dark machinations had succeeded in 
deceiving you, and to whom you were on the point of giving your daughter.” 

“ Oh 1 ” the senator muttered, with a furious gesture. 

“ Villain I ” the marquis exclaimed ; “ help I help I seize the monster ! ” 

Several servants rushed into the room, but before they could reach Don 
Rufino the latter had bounded with a tiger leap upon Don Rodolfo and buried 
a dagger in his chest. The sachem fell back with a cry of pain into the arms 
of his brother and son. 

“ Now,” said the assassin, “you can do whatever you like to me, for I am 
avenged.” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE FUNERAL OF A SACHEM. 

Two days had elapsed since the atrocious attack made by Don Rufino on Don 
Rodolfo. The Papazos had captured the hacienda without a blow, as the gates 
were opened to them ; for the stupor and terror of the Mexicans at this 
horrible crime were so great that they forgot all precautions. But we must do 
the red-skins the justice of stating that, contrary to their habits, they committed 
no excesses in the hacienda. 

I Don Hernando was inconsolable, and the colonel could not forgive himself 


The Funeral of a Sachem, 




for having supposed for a moment that the senator was an honest man. The 
whole hacienda was plunged into sorrow, and Don Rodolfo alone watched 
death approach with a calm brow. Fray Serapio dressed his wound ; his night was 
tolerably quiet, and in the morning the monk entered the wounded man’s 
room. 

“ Now, padre,” he said, “ it is our turn ; ” and he helped him to remove the 
bandages. 

“ I am condemned, am I not? ” said Don Rodolfo. 

“ God can perform a miracle,” the Franciscan stammered, in a faint voice. 

“ I understand you,” replied the sachem ; “answer me, therefore, frankly and 
sincerely. How many hours have I still to live ? ” 

“ What good is that, my dear, good master ?” the monk murmured. 

“ Padre Serapio,” said the chief, “ I want to know in order that I may settle 
my affairs on earth.” 

The poor man stifled a sigh, and answered, in a voice broken by emotion — ■ 
“ Unless a miracle occur, you will give back your soul to your Creator at 
sunset.” 

“ I thank you, my friend,” the sachem said. “ Ask my brother to come here, 
for I have to talk with him. Keep back my wife and niece until I ask for 
them.’^^ 

The worthy monk withdrew, choked with sobs. The interview of the two 
brothers was long, for Don Hernando had many faults to ask pardon for at the 
hands of him whose place he had taken. But Don Rodolfo, far from reproach- 
ing him, tried on the contrary to console him, by talking to him in a cheerful 
voice, and reminding him of the happy days of their childhood. He also 
thanked his brother warmly for having freed him from the heavy burden of 
supporting the family honour, and allowing him to live in accordance with his 
tastes and humour. 

Dona Marianna and Dona Esperanza then returned to the dying man’s room, 
followed by Padre Serapio, and a few moments afterwards the marquis came 
back, accompanied by Stronghand. The young man, in spite of his Indian 
education and affected stoicism, knelt down sobbing by his father’s side. 

“ Come here, niece,” Don Rodolfo at length said, addressing Dona 
Marianna. 

The maiden knelt down sobbing by the hunter’s side. The aged man looked 
for a moment tenderly at their two young faces, pale with sqrrow, which were 
piously leaning over him ; then he said, in a voice that trembled with emotion : 
“ Niece, answer me as you would answer God ; for the dying, you know, no 
longer belong to this world. Do you love my son ? ” 

“ Yes, uncle,” the maiden answered through her tears — “ yes, I love him,” 

“ And you, Diego, my son, do you love your cousin ? ” 

“Father, I love her,” the young man answered, in a voice- crushed by 
emotion. 

“ Bless our children, brother,” said Don Rodolfo; “according to the wish you 
expressed to me. Padre Serapio will unite them in our presence.” 

The wounded man stretched out his trembling hands over the two young 
people. 

“ Children,” he said, in a powerful voice, though with an accent of ineffable 
tenderness, “ I bless you : be happy.” 

And, crushed by the efforts he had been forced to make, he fell back in a 
half-fainting state on his bed. When he regained consciousness, through the 
attention of Dona Esperanza and his niece, he perceived an altar by the side of 
the bed. On his expressing a desire that the ceremony should take place at 


J26 


Stronghand, 


once, Padre Serapio, assisted by Jose Paredes, who was weeping bitterly, read 
the marriage mass. 

“ And now, my friends,” said Don Rodolfo, “ that I have accompiisned my 
duties as a Christian and Spanish gentleman, it is time for me to perform my 
duties as an Indian chief.” 

The doors opened, and the warriors entered : they were sad, gloomy, and 
thoughtful. The sachem had sat up to receive them, supported by his son, 
Stronghand. The warriors silently surrounded the bed on which their venerated 
chief lay, among them being Sparrowhawk and Peccari. 

“The chiefs,” said Peccari, “and the great braves of the confederation, 
assembled at sunrise round the council-fire : they desire, in order that no dis- 
cord may spring up among them, that our father, the great sachem, should 
him'^elf appoint his successor ; for they feel persuaded that our father’s choice 
will fall on a brave and wise chief, worthy to command men.” 

“ Be it so,” said the sachem ; “ the determination of the sachems is wise. 
Sparrowhawk will command in my place when I am called away by the Great 
Spirit.” 

Sparrowhawk quitted the ranks, stepped forward, and bowed respect- 
fully. 

“ I thank my father,” he said, “ for the signal honour he has done me ; but I 
am very young to command chiefs and renowned warriors. My father leaves a 
son.” 

“ My son is a pale-face. Sparrowhawk will command.” 

“ I obey my father ; but Stronghand will ever be one of our great chiefs.” 

A flattering murmur greeted these clever remarks. 

“ I thank my son Sparrowhawk. Modesty becomes a chief so celebrated as 
is my son,” the sachem continued ; “ the Great Spirit will inspire him. Do the 
chiefs approve my choice ? ” 

“ We could not have chosen better,” Peccari answered. “ We sincerely 
thank our father for having anticipated our dearest wishes by choosing Sparrow- 
hawk.” 

The sachem continued — 

“ I feel my strength rapidly leaving me, and life is abandoning me ; the Great 
Spirit will soon call me to him. My sons will carry me beneath a tent of my 
nation.” 

Stronghand, the marquis, Peccari, and Sparrowhawk gently lifted the 
wounded man on their shoulders, and carried him to the front yard of the 
hacienda, followed by all the rest, who walked silently and thoughtfully in the 
rear. A lodge formed of stakes covered with buffalo hides had been prepared 
to receive the great chief. 

All eyes were turned towards the dying sachem, by whose side were standing 
the members of his family, Padre Serapio, and the principal chiefs of the 
Papazos. 

All at once a nervous tremor passed over the dying man’s body ; his cheeks 
were tinged ; his half-closed eyes opened again ; he sat up without any ex- 
traneous help, and shouted, in a strong, clear voice, which was heard by all : 
— “ I come. Lord 1 Papazos, farewell 1 Esperanza 1 Esperanza 1 we shall meet 
again 1 ” 

His eyes closed ; a livid pallor spread over his face ; his limbs stiffened, and 
he fell back heavily as he exhaled his last sigh. He was dead. 

“ Our father is dead 1 ” Sparrowhawk shouted, in a thundering voice. 

“ Vengeance ! ” the red-skins yelled. 

In fact the murdearer of the chief was still alive. The white men who did no^ 


The Funeral of a Sachem. 


127 


wish to witness the horrible scene that was about to take place withdrew; 
Stronghand, the colonel, Paredes, and Marianno alone remained. 

We will not describe the horrible details of the punishment inflicted on the 
senator. Enough that he ■ as flayed alive, and all his joints cut off in succession. 

Then the chosen warriors took the body of the sachem, and proceeded by 
torchlight to the huerta, where the hacienda overhung the precipice. The 
corpse was tied on the back of the sachemS magnificent steed by deerskin 
thongs, holding his totems in one hand and his gun in the other. Then, amid 
the sobs of the squaws, the horse was led to the plateau, where the Papazo war- 
riors, mounted and dressed in their war paint, formed a semicircle, whose ends 
reached the precipice. 

By the glare of the torches — whose flames, agitated oy the wind, imparted a 
fantastic aspect to the gloomy and stern landscape in this part of the huerta — 
the hor?e was placed in the midst of the semi-circle, and the horsemen, brandish- 
ing their weapons, ^ruck up their war-song with a savage energy. The startled 
horse bounded on to the plateau, bearing the corpse, to which each of its bounds 
imparted such an oscillating movement that the rider appeared to be restored 
to life. On reaching the brink of the precipice the horse recoiled with terror, 
with flaming nostrils ; then, suddenly turning round, it tried to burst the living 
rampart, which was constantly contracted behind it. Several times the animal 
renewed the same exertions ; but at last, attacked by a paroxysm of terror, 
pursued by the yells of the Indians, and wounded by their long lances, it rose 
on its hind legs, uttered a terrible snort, and leaped into the gulf with its burden. 

On the morrow, at sunrise, the red-skins left the hacienda, to which they did 
not once return during the whole of the war, which lasted three years. 


THE SNOi» 


Alarmed a£ tiie Oondiiion 

of her surroundings, with friendr n”d family thoroughly disgusted by the 
Siocumulation of dirt from cellar to garret, and parlor to kitchen, many a 
woman undertakes a gigant’^ reform in one chapter and in one weefc 
Life is rendered almost unendurable during that time, and at the end of it 
she — the heroine of the house-cleaning, — collapses, and goes to bed for a 
fortnight. If she used Sapolio every week in the year the dirt would b« 
kept down, and the paint, and the pots and pans would be easily brighten6d 
in a few hours. lOc. a cake at all grocers. 



GRAND, SQUARE AND UPRIGHT 



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